> To Keep the Fire Burning
>  by DannyJ
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: This Hopeful Flame
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I remember the first time I died. It was a cold, numbing sensation, like my life and warmth was being drained out of me. At the time, I had no idea I was going to come back, so I had been certain that I would never feel such a terrible pain again, let alone anything worse. I was naive to believe that. Life isn't that easy. I had not yet experienced its full, unrelenting cruelty. There were times in the days ahead that I would've yearned for a death as simple as my first.

But that was not where it began. No, if I am to truly tell my tale, then I suppose I ought to go back to the day I lost my best friend.





Prologue:
This Hopeful Flame





The sun shone weakly through a grey cover of clouds as the two of us pulled our carts across the sloping hills. The mild autumn wind carried with it a scent of wet leaves. The gravel of the road crunched beneath our hooves. And I stared up at the sky in silence as I plodded along beside my friend.

Despite my quietness, I was not pondering any deep or meaningful subject. In truth, I was thinking about a mare back in my village, wondering what to say to her if I ever worked up the courage to say hello. Not the most weighty of topics, I know, but I was immersed in this thought, and thus was caught off-guard when my companion chose to break the silence with a question.

"What do you know about how life began?"

The weight of the apple cart on my back came into focus again. I gave a grunt, frustrated that I had only just managed to forget about it before being dragged back into the real world again. The thing rattled and bumped over the gravel, and I took a breath and looked sideways at my friend.

"Sorry, what was that?"

He tilted his head, staring at me through his blue compound eyes. I only just noticed at that moment that he'd polished his carapace; through a break in the clouds, the rising day sunlight shined off him.

"I said, what do you know about the beginning of life?" he repeated.

"Oh." I kept pulling my cart, but turned my gaze skyward again to contemplate the question. "Well, just what my grandpa told me, I guess. First there were the stars, then there was magic, from magic came life, from life came disparity, yadda, yadda, yadda, and then we had souls."

He gave a disappointed sigh, and his head drooped.

"Why do you ask, Notch?" I said.

He didn't look at me. Instead, he took an interest in a wooden sign by the side of the pathway, which noted that the village of Woods' End was ahead of us. I could already see it in the distance, a ramshackle collection of wooden huts with thatched roofs, positioned right at the edge of a very foreboding-looking forest.

"I was just thinking," said Notch. "What do you think we were all like before we had souls? Do you think the world used to be like... well... like how it is now?"

"I think that if it was, it doesn't bear thinking about. Losing your soul and becoming undead is already horrific enough if you just assume it's a curse. I really do not want to imagine a world where it's our default state."

Notch went quiet.

Soon we crested a small hill, and followed the path as it sloped gently downwards the rest of the way towards Woods' End. A blacksmith's forge was the first thing we saw coming in, where two mares in long blue uniforms, a pegasus and a unicorn, were speaking with a bearded earth stallion as he hammered away at a halberd. The smith looked like he was trying to ignore them, or at least was only listening as much as he absolutely had to. The forge was positioned in such a way that we couldn't avoid passing it, but Notch and I tried our best to steer clear of them and go unnoticed, despite hauling a pair of heavy apple carts behind us.

Sadly, though perhaps unsurprisingly, we failed to avoid their attention. While the unicorn mare kept trying to talk to the smith, the pegasus looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with us, twisting her head almost a hundred and eighty degrees to follow us with her glare. I had to avert my gaze and look back to the road, which oddly had given way from gravel to mud.

A few other ponies milled about the street, going in and out of shop doors or just standing around talking to each other. It wasn't a big village, but this looked like one of the busier parts of it. There were foals running about up ahead, an old mare rocking back and forth in a chair in front of one of the homes, and a young colt helping an elderly stallion unload firewood from a wagon. At one point, a chicken even ran across our path.

I felt that mare's eyes leave the back of my head, and dared look back to check. The two were still having their one-sided conversation with the blacksmith at the end of the road, but the pegasus was ignoring us now. I shivered slightly.

We stopped outside of a stone building with a straw roof. Above the doorway was a place where a sign was obviously meant to hang, but it was broken. Instead, the closest window had a large piece of card in front of the curtain, with the words "GENERAL STORE" scrawled on in red ink. I unhitched myself from my apple cart, and Notch did the same.

"Did you see those two?" I asked.

Notch gave me a look. "See them? I could feel them. Those two were radiating pure malevolence. If a changeling tried to feed on them, they would poison themselves."

He was joking. Probably. I doubted changelings could actually be poisoned by bad emotions.

I looked up the street again, in the direction of the blacksmith. The pegasus mare turned our way again and stared directly at me. The hairs pricked on the back of my neck, and I ushered Notch into the store.

"Come on," I muttered to him. "This place is giving me the creeps."

The inside of the store was dark and dreary. There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling and from the support beams, but none of them were lit, in spite of the weather. The windows were all open, except for the one with the sign in it, and the draft which they let in wasn't helping. Still, the store was warmer than outside. I could appreciate that much after the walk.

I trailed down the rows of shelves. This was less a general store and more a grocer's if the sheer quantity of fruit and vegetables was anything to go by. There was a small section on the other side of the store where the other goods were on display, mostly tools, but it still wasn't very general. Notch didn't seem to care as much as I did, and just walked up to the counter and rang the bell. I shuffled over as well and leaned next to him until a portly earth pony mare emerged from a back room.

"You 'ere with the apples?"

She spoke with the voice of an old wrinkled crone many times her age. She looked well on her way to becoming one, too; her face was screwed up in some combination of a sneer and a grin that made her look much older than I'm sure she was. I immediately decided that I did not like her.

"Yes, ma'am," Notch dutifully answered. "Two carts full of our ripest."

The shopkeeper trotted around the counter and shoved past us to get outside. Notch and I stood in the doorway as she inspected the apples. She took a bite out of one of them, and then gave me a smile that was almost predatory. I had to catch the half-eaten apple with my magic when she tossed it at me.

"Looks good. Load it up around back."

We complied, moving the carts around the side of the store and parking them at the back, where we then unloaded our apple crates and picked up several of her empty ones. Notch took the filled crates inside to place them in the storeroom for her, while I passed them to him between stacking the empties. The shopkeeper stayed outside with me all the while, leaning against the doorframe and keeping her gaze on me.

When my work was done and Notch disappeared inside with the last crate, the mare reached into a saddlebag on the floor by her hooves and removed a purse. To my surprise, she gave me an old silver coin bearing the stern face of King Leopold II of Griffonstone.

"O-Oh, ma'am, that's unnecessary. We already received your payment."

She smiled at me. "I know. Just a tip for yer services, since you've been such a good boy."

I flushed as I reluctantly took the coin from her. Perhaps I'd misjudged her. Creepy or no, an act of generosity was always appreciated in these hard times.

"Well, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You'll need every bit you can get when your friend drains you dry and you go hollow!"

The mare gave a dry laugh that was almost a cackle. I decided that I was right about her the first time, and put the coin into my own saddlebags. As her laughter subsided, Notch returned.

"If we're all done here, I think it's time to go," he said.

"No objections from me," I responded.

Notch turned to the shopkeeper. "Ma'am, is there anywhere we can leave these carts for an hour?"

"Y'can leave them back 'ere if you want. Nopony's gonna want 'em if they got nuffink in 'em."

"Thank you. And might you be able to direct us to the nearest bonfire?"

The old mare's lips curled up.

"Straight across town, in the square by the old well."

Notch gave her a respectful bow. I did the same, and the two of us soon trotted back out onto the main street.

"Is everypony in this place a creeper?" I whispered.

"I hope not," said Notch. "But let's not stay long, either way. Something feels wrong about this place."

Glancing up the street, I noticed that the blacksmith was now alone.

We cut between some buildings and followed one of the narrower roads. Once or twice, we nearly bumped into other ponies. With each we passed, I kept noticing the looks that they were giving Notch. I kept as close to him as possible.

"Notch, do you sense any other changelings in town? Are the locals just taking pony form?"

"No. I think I'm the only one."

I quickly looked behind me, and could almost swear I saw that blue-uniformed pegasus disappearing behind a building.

"You don't think Woods' End shipped off its changeling population to the Asylum, do you?" I asked.

"That is exactly what I think."

"Let's just hit the bonfire quickly and go."

We emerged into the square. Just like the hag told us, a light pink fire burned softly in the middle of town, surrounded by a circle of stone benches. Its flame flickered and sputtered with fading life, like a campfire in the rain. It burned atop a large heap of ashes, filled with warped bits of glowing red metal and small stones, no wood to be seen. There was a sword embedded in the ground there, its blade disappearing into the top of the ash pile, marking it as one of the true bonfires, despite its forlorn appearance. The pink flames clung to the sword, barely tall enough to reach the mouth-grip.

And sitting by it on one of the benches, another old mare in red robes glanced at us as we approached.

"This fire is weak," she said with severity. "It will not sustain you anymore, changeling. None of the bonfires can."

While Notch stood back, I approached the mare and bowed, lighting my horn and removing a necklace with a wooden pendant from my bags.

"We bring offerings, Fire-Keeper," I said. "A token of friendship."

She lowered her hood, revealing a horn of her own, and lifted the necklace with her magic to inspect it. I waited patiently for her verdict as she turned it over in the air, frowning.

"It is sufficient," she finally said.

The Fire-Keeper tossed the necklace into the pink flames, and the bonfire roared to life, rising up for only a second before dying down again.

"The changeling may feed."

Notch took a seat on another of the stone benches, closed his eyes, and held out his hooves to the bonfire as if he were warming himself. But this fire was so weak, I didn't feel its heat at all. On a day like this, that was a real tragedy. I took a seat next to the Fire-Keeper.

"The bonfires are dying," I said.

She looked to me and nodded.

"The Fire-Keeper in my hometown says that it'll mean the end of us all. Is that what you think?"

The Fire-Keeper closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Many disasters could come of such a thing. Undoubtedly, the changelings will starve. Those that don't will feed on us. We will lose our souls. All of us. And then we'll go hollow."

Grim.

"Do you have any idea what's causing it? Everypony seems to have a different opinion nowadays, but my mother always said only the Fire-Keepers really know what they're talking about. So what do you think would save us from this curse?"

The Fire-Keeper stared into the bonfire.

"There is a saying." She drew herself up. "'Life began in Equestria, and so too did all of life's problems.'"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Equestria?" I repeated.

"Indeed. The land of the ancient lords. The home of all ponies in ages past. Now it brims with hollows and feral changelings, but I have no doubt in my heart. That is where the answers lie."

"Why Equestria?"

"Equestria was the original home of the Fire of Friendship, the flame from which all the bonfires draw their power. It is said that it was created there, fuelled by the six founders and given life by Clover the Clever. The song we now sing to the Fire was once Equestria's anthem. If the Fire is dying, then one must conclude that something is happening at its source. Where else might the source be?"

I sat back, pondering the old mare's words. I had asked several other Fire-Keepers in my travels about our eventual fate, but in every remote pit of a village that I had been to, none of them had ever given such a direct and thoughtful answer. I'd of course heard of Equestria in legends and old stories, but this was the first I'd heard of any link between it and the bonfires. Was that really it? Surely that must mean that others had gone to Equestria in search of the truth before now?

But the bonfires were still dying. If ever any hero before now had ventured out to Equestria in hopes of saving the world... they hadn't succeeded yet.

"Firelink."

I'd been staring into the bonfire with the Fire-Keeper, but Notch's voice snapped me out of it.

"Hmm?"

"Firelink, come on," he said. "It's time to go."

I nodded and stood up, bidding the Fire-Keeper farewell. As Notch and I started to walk back the way we came, however, the pegasus in the blue uniform emerged from a side alley with her partner.

"Halt," she said, sharply.

We both froze in place, mid-step, in my case. Notch's eyes widened, and so did mine. My heart raced. Somehow, I knew exactly what was about to happen.

"You, changeling, what's your name?" the pegasus demanded.

To his credit, Notch kept his nerve much better than I. Though he remained poised and tense, he answered with a confidence that I could never have summoned were I in his place.

"Notched Arrowhead of Brittlesworth, son of Silver Quiver."

The unicorn mare withdrew a notepad from her pockets and began scrawling on it.

"Brittlesworth?" said the pegasus. "That's the other side of the border, isn't it? Woods' End is of his majesty's lands. What are you doing this far west?"

"We are employees of Golden Orchards, delivering apples to Woods' End," Notch answered immediately. "We were not made aware of any law against our crossing the border. Our employer assured us that he had sent deliveries here without issue many ti—"

"It is not an issue that the border was crossed; it is an issue that you chose to cross it," the pegasus said, curtly.

Notch didn't say anything. The mare glared at him for a moment, clearly expecting him to protest or offer a counter-argument, but when none came, she continued.

"Perhaps you haven't heard, but by the king's decree, your kind are no longer allowed to wander freely here. It's a waste of time to round up and lock away all our hollows or even all our undead so long as you people keep making more of them. So I'm afraid that all changelings are expected to surrender themselves to the custody of the Inquisition now."

Now Notch spoke up.

"That's preposterous! I have never turned a pony undead, much less hollow, in my entire life! I feed from the bonfires, like all responsible changelings do!"

The pegasus spread her wings and took a step forward. For the first time, Notch's bravado dried up, and he tried to back away from her.

"The bonfires are dying, little changeling." She sneered. "Keep up your pretence of nobility all you want, but we both know that if it came down to you either starving or feeding from ponies, you would tear out and devour our souls in an instant, like the ravenous locust you are."

Notch growled at her, but before he could do anything, the inquisitor reared up and smashed her forehooves down on his head. Notch crumpled to the ground, and I recoiled.

The pegasus turned to share a look with the other inquisitor, who had already put away her notepad and drawn a small metal ring. She stepped aside to allow the unicorn to walk over and affix it to Notch's horn. Then she reached into her own pocket and withdrew some odd metal wires, which she began to tie his wings with.

"Bu-But..." For the first time since the encounter began, I tried to speak, but it just came out as a stutter. "But you can't take him! H-He's not a citizen of your country!"

"He crossed the border, so we can do whatever we want," the unicorn said to me.

I thought I heard a slight groan from Notch, but I couldn't tell if he was still conscious or not as the unicorn mare lifted him with her magic. She trotted past me with him, heading across the square. I didn't know where she was going. I turned to the pegasus, who was standing there looking at me with a stone-faced expression.

"Where are you taking him?" I asked her.

"To the Changeling Asylum in the north. He and the rest of his fellows can fester in their own little hive up there, far away from all the rest of us."

"You can't do that!" I shouted, a note of desperation entering my voice.

"Yes we can."

And that's all she said, as she then turned away and tried to follow after her partner. For an awkwardly long amount of time, I just stood there with my jaw hanging open and watched her walking away from me. But then I felt my anger building. I took a deep breath and marched across the square to catch up with her.

"Hey!"

As I came near, I reached out with a hoof and tried to grab her shoulder. And that was my mistake. The moment I touched her, she whirled around and punched me in the face. I fell on my back, and then she slammed her forehooves on my chest, winding me. I cried out in pain, but she leaned down and pinned a hoof against my neck.

"Assaulting a member of the Inquisition. You may not be going to the Asylum, but you've certainly earned a cage of your own."

She put a restraining ring around my horn like her partner had done to Notch, and then the hoofcuffs came. All I could do was thrash impotently and scream the whole way through.





The circumstances of my imprisonment, release, and what happened after that is not a terribly interesting tale. Needless to say, the mare arrested me to make a point, not because she had any intention of actually trying to punish me to fullest extent of the law. I was let go and allowed to go back home, but I didn't get to see or speak to Notch again, and I was told that he had already been loaded onto the ships and sent off to the Asylum by the time I was out.

Back in my village, I fell into a routine for several more weeks, numbly carrying out my job of delivering the apples to other settlements, now without my best friend. But over time, I did not find my sorrows becoming any easier to bear. In truth, I thought back on that fateful day more and more. I thought of Notch, starving in some decaying asylum, the chill of the cold northern nights slowly killing him. It was thoughts like those that kept me awake at night.

One afternoon, while in this haze, I returned to my village after a long day's work, and went to sit down by the bonfire. The Brittlesworth fire was well-kindled, unlike the measly thing from Woods' End, but it was still fairly small. The flame burned taller, but it did not spread outwards very much, though the ash heap beneath it did.

On a nearby stone bench, the Fire-Keeper of my village noticed my approach. I sat down next to her, and she looked sideways at me and gave a weak smile. Her wrinkled face looked all the more gaunt for the effort, half cast in shadow by her hood and the gloomy, cloud-filled sky. Still, she leaned over and placed a hoof on my shoulder. I leaned into my grandma's embrace, saying nothing to her.

We sat in silence for a minute or two, just staring into the flames together, but we weren't alone for long. The bonfire was a changeling feeding point, so sooner or later it was inevitable that Mr. Silver Quiver would show up. I almost hadn't been able to face him these past few weeks, but that afternoon, I didn't have a choice. He gave a grim smile to Gran and I as he approached.

"Ahem," he said, his voice dry and scratchy, "I, uh... Hello again, Firelink, Mrs. Flame."

He sat down on the bench opposite us and held out his hooves to the fire. That wasn't necessary for feeding. Notch and his father both just did that by habit, even when it wasn't actually cold out. A slight smile tugged at the corner of my mouth for only a second before it died again. Mr. Quiver tried to keep his eyes on the flames, but they kept wandering back to me.

"I'm, uh..." I instinctively tried to apologise again, but it died in my throat. "Ho-How are you holding up, Mr. Quiver?"

He gave a long sigh.

"I've been better."

There wasn't much I could say to that, so I said nothing, and the three of us remained in silence for several more minutes while Mr. Quiver fed. It was sad to think that this broken old changeling was the same one that I'd known for all my years, the same one whose house I always used to go to after school. He had never exactly been a jolly or outgoing type, but when I was a colt and Notch was a larva, I remember a warmness to Mr. Quiver that just wasn't there anymore. It had already started to go away when he lost his wife. Now it had left him completely.

Eventually, he got up and left, bidding the both of us goodbye and returning to his shack on the other side of town. I worried what might become of him in his despair.

"...Gran?"

"Yes, dear?" Gran said, softly.

"How did you keep going? After grandpa?"

Gran let go of me and leaned forward. She crossed her hooves and kept looking into the fire rather than at me.

"You just do, after a while. Your grandfather lived a long life, and I took some comfort in that... We had our time, and it ended. But more than anything, you just get used to it. In the old stories, there were tales of goddesses that would watch everyone they knew die, and they'd weep and weep and curse their immortality for making them witness so much death."

She looked my way and gave a cocky grin.

"But I never liked those stories. They make the goddesses out to be crybabies. I've seen my share of death, Firelink. I didn't need to be immortal for that. And take it from me, death gets easier in time, not worse. The undead would tell you the same. 'If you fall down seven times, stand up eight.'"

I looked across the village in the direction of Notch's old family home.

"Do you think Mr. Quiver will ever get over it?"

"Maybe. What about you? Do you think that you will?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, exactly.

"I... I don't know. He's probably not even dead yet, Gran. How can I mourn him when I can't stop thinking about what he must be going through right now? ...I've had nightmares about it."

Gran nodded. "I will pray to Luna for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Like she ever listens."

"Have faith and it will pay dividends, Firelink."

"So if I pray, will the goddesses return Notch to us from whatever wretched place he's rotting in right now?"

Gran just gave me a sympathetic look, and returned her attention to the fire.

"You'll never make a Fire-Keeper without faith, Firelink."

I sighed.

"What would even be the point? The bonfires are dying anyway. Another few years, maybe a few decades if we're lucky, then it'll all be as you said... We'll all be drowning in hollows..."

"And that's why it's so important to have faith. We live in a cold world, Firelink. Draw comfort from wherever you can."

Gran's horn lit up, and she began prodding at the edge of the bonfire with her magic. Under her breath, she muttered an old hymn, and as she sung, the flames inched just a little higher.

"The Fire of Friendship lives in our hearts... As long as it burns, we will not drift apart..."

My grandma's hymn was an old anthem of friendship. To ponies, friendship is one of the most important things. I've heard it described as the one thing that separates us from animals. I thought of the Inquisition. They let their fear become more important than friendship, and they turned on their own citizens, abducting the changelings and the undead in some desperate hope that it might let them survive the Fire dying out. But they had become monsters for it.

In my country, at least in Brittlesworth, we hadn't made that choice. We had collectively decided that our friendships were too important to throw away, even for our own survival. There was something I found tragically beautiful in that. I recognised then that in the absence of faith, that was what I had always valued and found comfort in. Friendship. Family. Loyalty. In a sense, maybe I did have faith. Just faith in others, rather than faith in the goddesses.

And that's when I knew that I couldn't leave Notch to his fate. The revelation hit me just like that. I couldn't let him rot, because that's not what a good friend would do. And he was the same as me. He also had faith in friendship. I was his only hope.

I stood up suddenly. Gran seemed amused.

"I know that look," she said. "That's the look your father always gave when he'd made up his mind about something."

"I need to reach the Changeling Asylum."




"But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain..."




> Chapter 1: By the Skin of Your Teeth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After spending a day preparing supplies and planning how I'd get through the Inquisition's lands undetected, I said my goodbyes to everybody and went on my way, promising that I'd be back with Notch in about a week's time. My mother had called me crazy and tried to convince me not to go. My grandma had been gently encouraging but slightly worried. My employer had just shrugged and told me that if I wasn't back in a week he'd replace me. The next day, I crossed the border and headed northwest on a planned three day journey to Port Cruelsea. If my information was correct, that was where the Inquisition kept their ships docked.

As it turned out, the Inquisition really didn't care about me at all, now that I wasn't travelling with a changeling. My three day journey turned out to only take a day and half when I realised that I was fine to take the main roads. Then once I got to Cruelsea, it was just a matter of finding a ship to take me across the water to the Asylum. I eventually located an old sailor with a rowboat who was willing to make the trip. He thought that I was mad to go there, but I ignored his warnings. Some days, I wonder if perhaps I shouldn't have.

And so it was that I came to be climbing over a number of giant, jagged rocks just outside the imposing southern wall of the Changeling Asylum, the spray of the sea on my back and the call of the sailor in my ear.

"Ya got one hour! If you're not back by then, I'll be shipping off without yeh!"

I didn't even turn back to look at him. I merely opened my saddlebags and floated out a long rope with a giant hook on the end, which I'd purchased precisely for this occasion. Rather than attempting to throw it, I lifted it right up to the top of the wall with my magic, which was fortunately just within my magical range, and attached it as firmly as possible. Beneath a stormy grey sky, I scaled the wall, swaying in the wind on my rope.

I'm coming, Notch. I'm coming to rescue you.





Chapter 1:
By the Skin of Your Teeth





The moment I climbed up and over the prison wall and entered the Changeling Asylum, a foreboding sense of dread came over me. Crossing the sea to get here, the stormy skies and fierce winds had only stoked the fire in my heart, but now that I was within the prison itself, it was already withering. Suddenly, the cold seemed that much stronger.

Standing atop the ramparts, I had a good view of the Changeling Asylum. It was converted from some ancient castle, with battlements and turrets and several courtyards of varying size visible between the walls and towers. One such courtyard, directly below me, had a lone bonfire flickering away in the middle, its light pink flame struggling in the wind. I could see no way down to that level, so I looked around for alternative paths.

As I headed right, towards a tower to the east, I noted the age of the brickwork. Everything was almost crumbling, and moss had grown in the cracks. This castle looked like it had been abandoned long ago. It certainly didn't look like a functioning prison. Especially since, oddly enough, I had not spotted a single inquisitorial guard. Or changeling, for that matter.

I pushed open a door and headed inside the tower. It was empty and unlit, with only a single spiral stairway in the middle of the room and another door on the other side. I ascended the stairs and entered another unlit room, the sole features here being a single wooden table and chair and a bale of hay in the corner. A set of keys lay on the table. I didn't know what they unlocked, but I thought it a good idea to take them. The bottom floor was empty too, and the door down there was locked and unresponsive to any of the keys I found, so I went back up and out onto the ramparts. I headed along it in the other direction until I came to a second, western tower. This one was also locked, and also did not respond to any of the keys I found.

I cursed and kicked the door. That was it. I was already out of legitimate pathways through this place. I guess I shouldn't have expected navigating the area to be easy when I got in by scaling the wall instead of going through the front door, wherever that might've been. But this meant that I had to do some more climbing. Good thing I still had my rope.

I leapt down into the courtyard with the bonfire below, grunting as I hit the ground and ignoring the aching in my ankles. There were a few open doors down here, so I went for the one that looked darkest and was most likely to lead underground. There, I expected I would find the dungeon. I stepped into the darkness, and immediately something crunched beneath my hoof. Cockroaches.

"Eugh," I said as I scraped it off.

As I was looking at the ground, though, something caught my eye in the darkness, just in front of me. I created a bright flame using my horn, and was able to see the eviscerated changeling. It had a broken horn and torn wings, and lifelessly stared up at the ceiling. A trail of green liquid oozed from its stomach, and the cockroaches swarmed around the wound. I gasped and brought a hoof up to cover my mouth.

Then I pulled my hoof away and stared at it, seeing that it was also covered in changeling blood, as well as dead cockroach. I ran out into the courtyard and was sick.

I leaned back against the wall once I was done, shivering and rocking in place as tears streamed down my face. I used my magic to lift a bottle of drinking water out of my saddlebags, and cleaned off my hooves and face. That done, I got up and took a deep breath.

"...Okay, you can do this, Firelink. You can do this."

I stepped back into the darkness to face the corpse again. My small fireball glowed brightly and illuminated the room, revealing how damp the castle's interior was, with even worse moss problems than outside. I tried to focus on that rather than the dead changeling, but I had to walk past him on my way over to the next door.

While passing, I noticed that he was half-laying on a round, wooden shield strapped to one of his forelegs. There was also a rusty, ancient sword over on the other side of the room, or at least the hilt of one, which was curiously stained with fresh red blood. It was about as fresh as the changeling's, at least.

"Did you try to fight your way out of here?" I muttered.

The changeling did not answer me. I looked out into the courtyard, and then back over my shoulder at the door. Even if I hadn't seen any inquisitorial guards, this place did still clearly present some danger. Not wanting to physically touch it, I used my magic to lift the changeling's body and remove the shield from his foreleg.

The inside of the wooden roundshield was covered in changeling blood, so I didn't attach it to my own foreleg. As a unicorn, I had the option of levitating it and moving it in front of oncoming attack. Granted, I was sure it wouldn't withstand attack as well as it could've that way, but I wasn't sure that it could protect me from much in the first place. It was a tiny thing.

I looked down at the changeling one last time.

"I'm sorry," I said.





I had banished my fireball to focus on holding my shield, and so now navigated mostly by hornlight alone. My magic fought back the darkness as I descended into the prison, but not as well as my fire had. Torches lined the walls here and there, flickering with orange flames, and they helped, but the prison was still dim. For a moment, I mistook them as a definite sign of life, but to my dismay, examining them closer revealed that they were the enchanted type. These could last ages. I had no idea how long they'd been burning for.

At first, the cells I came across were empty. But soon chittering and wails began to fill the air. I followed the sound through the labyrinth and came to a long corridor. On either side of me, held behind bars and thick metal gates, changelings moped about. They walked in circles around their cells, leaned against the walls staring at nothing, or just lay there, heads in their hooves. None of them seemed to notice me.

I noted with a wince that all of them shared a common handicap; like the dead changeling from earlier, they all had broken horns and were missing their wings. I almost couldn't believe that I was really seeing it. I already knew that the Inquisition treated its prisoners badly, but to think that they were getting away with this kind of cruelty... It was things like this which was why I didn't believe in the goddesses.

With a gulp, I walked over to one cell and tried to get the attention of its inhabitant.

"Hello?" I said, my hoof clanging on the bars as I tapped them.

The changeling looked up at me with a snarl and lunged. I took a step back and it smashed against the bars. It pushed its muzzle through them and started biting at the air, letting loose green spittle. I stood frozen in abject shock. My first encounter with a feral changeling. I didn't even know that this was really a thing that happened. I'd thought it was just scaremongering.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, turning away from the sad scene.

"Is anybody in here still sane?" I called out through the prison. "Any of you? If you're sane, I can release you!"

I walked the corridor, looking into each cell at the changelings, each in their own depressive funk. I called out repeatedly for sane changelings to speak up. Sometimes I caught the attention of the ferals in the cells, and they'd start throwing themselves against the bars and gnashing at me just like the first one did. Very occasionally, they'd set off other feral changelings as well, but most of them were content to ignore me.

Still, I was quickly losing hope. Did changelings in the Asylum really deteriorate this fast? If so, I did not like the thought of how I would find Notch.

I was coming to the end of the corridor when it happened. I called out again, and a feral in the cell to my right took notice and rushed at the door, throwing its whole body weight against it while snarling and hissing. It had not been the first to do such a thing, but the bars on its cell were rusty and brittle, and this one actually smashed its way through into the corridor, startling me.

It was behind me when it happened, so I whirled around to face it. The feral had cut itself on the metal smashing through,  and was bleeding green from its side, but it didn't seem to notice or care. The changeling bared its fangs and rushed at me. It took me a few seconds to remember the shield that I was levitating, which I brought between me and the changeling, but it batted the piece of wood aside without even trying and lunged for my throat.

In an instant, I was pinned. It tried to bite me, but I kicked it off and into a wall, winding it. I flipped myself up and backed away, raising the shield again, but this time I was all too aware that it wouldn't actually protect me.

What am I doing? I thought to myself. I can't fight without a weapon! I'm an idiot! I'm going to die!

It lunged again, and I swung with the shield and hit it in the head with as much force as I could muster. By luck, the thing screeched and fell to the ground, a small amount of green oozing from where I struck. It clutched at its wound, but I knew that such an injury would not kill it. It would get right back up, and it would keep trying to murder me. I couldn't be sure that I'd get in another lucky blow like that. I panicked.

I threw myself on top of it, punching it in the face with my hooves and using my magic to batter it with my shield at the same time. The shield was very light and made a terrible makeshift weapon, so I had to keep slamming it down again and again. My eyes were wide and manic as I wrestled with the thing and kept trying to hold it down while it struggled. At some point I stopped beating the feral and began strangling it instead, while maintaining my assault with the shield. Green fluid sprayed over me, and the feral just wouldn't stop wailing.

Eventually, the changeling went still. Its limp body flopped over, and I dropped my shield, now covered with a fresh coat of green. I fell off and rolled over onto my back, lying on the dusty prison floor. My breathing was deep and rapid, and my eyes were watering. I had blood all over me.

That was the first time I ever killed anything.





I stumbled out of the darkness ten minutes later, cold, numb, a vacant expression on my face, and still no closer to finding Notch. Wherever he was, he wasn't in any of the cells down there. I was still covered in changeling blood when I emerged into the daylight, but it had begun drying sometime while I was down there. I still carried the useless shield with me, but I hadn't had cause to wield it again yet.

There was a crack of thunder. I looked up at the storm clouds and frowned, thinking. Unless this region had wild weather, which was possible, but not a given, there had to be pegasi up there to cause a storm. Griffons, at the very least. Was that where all the inquisitorial staff were? Did they have no guards here on the ground because they could stay up there, safe, away from the prisoners? It made sense; if the prison itself was so aged and crumbling that ferals could just break out of their cells by accident, I certainly wouldn't want to be stuck with the job of watching them. This Asylum seemed less like a proper prison and more like a quarantine zone. They just stuck the changelings in here and left them to rot away and die. No proper oversight necessary.

But if that was the case, why even lock them up? It wasn't like the changelings could escape under their own power. I presumed that these barbarians had broken the prisoners' horns and removed their wings to prevent them from flying or self-levitating their way out. There was no other way over the wall without having a rope, like I had. And even if they got over the wall, they were still changelings, not exactly known for being good swimmers, and a freezing ocean stood between them and their escape. Why not just let the changelings roam free about the prison?

There were no other dungeons on the ground level in this courtyard, so it seemed like I had to make my way to the west side of the Asylum, which was on the other side of a massive metal gate. I walked up and tried to shove it open, but it felt like it was blocked from the other side. I could scale the wall and go over the gate, but that probably wasn't safe.

I crossed the courtyard with rope in hoof and climbed back up onto the south wall. From there, I could see the boat, and I waved to the old sailor so that he knew I was still around. Since I knew the west tower was completely locked and I couldn't get into it, and I didn't have confidence in my ability to smash down the door, I decided to climb over it and fall down the other side. It'd be a shorter drop from the tower onto the ramparts.

It was while I was climbing over this tower that a bird screech rang out somewhere above me. I looked up, expecting to see griffon inquisitorial guards swooping towards me. Instead, my eyes widened as the clouds glowed and fire began raining down from a cluster of them just above the Asylum. Literally, huge balls of fire were descending towards me, bigger than any I had ever conjured up, though not as bright. I had no idea what was going on, and in my bewildered state, I leapt from the top of the tower down into a courtyard below to escape the oncoming destruction, almost breaking my legs in the process.

As I moaned in pain after hitting the ground, nursing my legs and stumbling as quickly as I could to a sheltered area at the side of the courtyard, fire falling from the sky towards me, I thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse. Then something roared, and a thumping sound reverberated through the ground. I slowly turned around, my pupils as small as pinpricks. And that's when the gigantic demon emerged from over the northern wall of the courtyard.

It was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen in my life. It stood on four legs, like a pony, but it was bloated and dry-looking, with a rubbery, blue-green skin instead of a coat, and thick, twisting, bone-like protrusions sticking out of its thighs, kneecaps, and the back of its head. The latter ones were the biggest, rising up over the beast to make it seem taller, and they gave it the appearance of having antlers when looking at it head-on. Its back legs and hindquarters were fat, but its forelegs were small and spindly and ended with claws.

Where a pony would have lips, the demon left its gums and large square teeth exposed, which it kept clenched shut while it glared at me through its beady red eyes. It climbed over the battlements and dropped into the courtyard, swishing its short tail behind it, which looked more like an exposed spine than it did like a pony's tail.

It opened its mouth and roared at me. I scrambled back away from it as quickly as I could. Fortunately, it didn't care too much about me at that exact moment. After scaring the living daylights out of me, it turned its attention to the sky, which I had almost forgotten for a second was still raining death upon us. One of the fireballs was about to impact the courtyard. Up close like this, I could see that it was the flaming wreckage of a wooden sky chariot.

Then the demon's antler-bones glowed a sickly green hue. It roared again as the aura around its antlers also encapsulated the burning sky chariot, and the demon tossed it back up into the air with astounding force. It flew all the way back into the sky, and actually broke through the cloud layer, disappearing from sight completely. My jaw dropped.

The demon could do magic.

More fireballs were falling, but they weren't falling on me anymore, and they seemed to be keeping the Asylum demon preoccupied. Looking around, I located a small, open side-door to the south, and galloped over to it as fast as I could, ignoring the lingering pain from my earlier fall. The demon noticed my escape, but as soon as it turned to try and stop me, a burning pegasus corpse landed on its head, enraging it and putting its attention back on the siege from above.

I did not question fate. I merely took advantage of the chaos to get into the castle interior again.





I collapsed against the wall.

"Celestia's mercy!" I gasped.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and sweat ran in rivulets down my face. I opened my saddlebag and removed a handkerchief to wipe it away. I took a deep breath, and despite myself, I muttered a prayer to the goddesses, for luck if nothing else.

I rested for several more minutes, but I knew I could not remain for long, and so I climbed to my hooves and pressed ahead. To my surprise, the corridor I was in turned out not to lead deeper into the castle, but instead to another outdoor area. Not a courtyard this time, but a long pathway, with a castle wall on my right and a series of prison cells with open doors on my left. Looking up, I could see that the sky was still on fire, at least in places, and that the burning wreckage and corpses were still falling.

What in the name of sanity is going on up there? I wondered.

It didn't matter. I had to move. I drew my pathetic little shield and prepared to run past the cells, when all of a sudden a charred griffon corpse landed in a heap just in front of me. I took a step back out of instinct, and retched when I was hit with the smell of burning meat, but I had nothing left in my stomach to expel after emptying it earlier.

While trying to get my breathing under control, I noticed a few things about the dead griffon, notably his burnt uniform (confirming that the Inquisition were indeed based in the clouds above the Asylum), and his weapons. He was rather heavily armed, carrying on him a set of wing-blades for aerial combat, a dagger attached to his belt, and a straight sword with a claw-grip, made to be held with a griffon's talons, rather than by mouth as pony weapons were.

I tentatively used my magic to pry the sword away from the dead inquisitor. Though it was not made for ponies, the grip did not matter to me, as I had no intention of wielding it physically; unicorns have a great advantage in reach when it comes to swordplay, and I intended to exploit that now that I had a sword I could actually use. If the fates were kind, I'd never have to face an enemy in such close quarters as last time ever again.

Now armed, I charged out of cover and along the pathway. I stopped by each cell just long enough to glance inside and check if it was occupied, before running on in case I was hit by falling wreckage or attacked by another feral. Fortunately, they were all empty, and I reached the end of the path without incident. There, I ran through an open door, which I soon realised was the ground-floor entrance to the west tower, the one I had leapt from earlier.

Inside, the place was just as bare as the east tower, but I nonetheless ascended to the middle level and tried my luck with the door leading to the west side of the prison. Miraculously, this one was open. I didn't question the arbitrary nature of which doors were locked, but instead poked my head outside to check on the state of things. The sky had calmed over the prison, but out over the sea, there was still fire falling everywhere.

I wanted to investigate the mystery of the burning sky and find out what it was that was merrily roasting the Inquisition alive up there, but I had bigger problems demanding my attention. Down below in the courtyard, the Asylum demon was still prowling, burning wreckage and corpses strewn about by its hooves. I noted that the other side of the metal gate had previously been blocked by a big pile of barrels and crates that were now smashed to pieces and burning.

The demon hadn't noticed me yet, so I ducked back inside the tower for now, but there was no way it wouldn't see me if I ran out across the ramparts. I considered turning back and trying to escape, but if Notch was in the west block, as I suspected he was, then there was no avoiding this creature. I'd have to get past somehow if I intended to continue my search. And as it just so happened, there was a door on the west wall of the prison that led into the structure's interior. Another prison block? If so, then that would be a good destination.

"Right... okay..."

There was really only one thing for it. I needed to distract him with a spell. As it happened, I was fairly sure my pyromancy would do the trick. My talent related to fire, so it was one of the few spells I was proficient with. Unfortunately, my talent was more to do with light than burning things, so I wasn't sure if I could do much damage to the demon with it, but I could certainly blind the wretched thing.

I envisioned the spell in my head, recalling the familiar framework, and then began charging my horn. As I did, I ran outside, galloping at a breakneck pace towards the door to the upper west block. The demon heard me and turned around. It snarled. I screamed. I let loose the spell. For a brief second, a light as bright as the sun flashed in its direction, and the Asylum demon cried out in pain and covered its eyes. Even I was a little disoriented by the spell, despite my being more accustomed to its effects. But the important thing was that it gave me enough time to charge for the door and barrel inside.

I shut the door behind me, and immediately found myself in the middle of a long corridor that ran from north to south along the prison's west wall. Just like the last cell block I was in, enchanted torches kept the place lit, and the air was filled with the quiet chittering of changeling prisoners. Outside, I thought I could hear the Asylum demon still thumping away, but it didn't seem to be making any efforts to get to me anymore.

I decided to head north along the corridor first, but after only a few paces, I froze. Up ahead, at the far end of the corridor, a changeling was out of its cell, leaning against a wall and covering its face. It could have been a feral. I raised my shield.

"Hey!" I called out. "Are you sane?"

It didn't respond to me, but to my surprise, somebody else did.

"Sane? This is an asylum, you know."

I recoiled away from the changeling in the cell right next to me, whom I hadn't noticed until now.

He leaned against the bars and gave me a half-cocked grin. I settled slightly and lowered my shield, though I did not fully lower my guard. With a sympathetic grimace, I noted that he, like all the other prisoners, was missing his wings and horn. He didn't seem to be in much pain from it, but it still made me want to cringe just from looking at it. I really could not get over how sickening it was that the Inquisition did this.

"Uh, hello," I said, trying to ignore his physical condition. "You still seem to have your wits about you. You're the first changeling I've seen here who hasn't gone feral."

The changeling in the cell smiled and shrugged.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Trusty Patches," he answered in what I now recognised as a common Trottingham accent. "'Ere, what's a pony doing in this place? You don't look like a prison guard."

I snorted. "How do you even know what a prison guard looks like? I haven't seen a single one of them since I showed up here."

"Nah, you wouldn't have, mate. Them're all up in the clouds. They don't need to be down here with us. Not with the demon around."

"Yeah, I think I just met it. What's a demon doing here, of all places?"

"Inquisition captured it, way I hear. They brought it here when they first started using the place as a prison. Guards the front gate. It ain't come to stomp us all yet, but if we try to escape, it'll squash us flat."

"...Hmph."

Patches cocked his head. "So, what are you here for?"

"I'm... here to rescue a friend," I said, looking down the corridor at the changeling out of his cell. "I think he was imprisoned somewhere around here. Would've been three weeks ago now. Do you know where they might've locked him up?"

He shook his head. "Nah, mate, you got it wrong. They don't lock us up in here. We lock ourselves up, and we lock up the ferals. For our own protection, y'see."

I raised an eyebrow. "What, in case the ferals try to eat you?"

Patches rolled his eyes.

"We're just like undead, really. We only really stay sane if we still 'ave our souls. The ferals, they don't have souls no more. They lost 'em all, or burned 'em out, or traded 'em away."

"Traded them away?"

"It's a changeling thing. Point is, we got souls and they don't, so they want 'em. So yes, they'll attack us and try to take 'em, 'less we stick the ferals in the cells to keep 'em away from the rest of us. And we can hide in our cells to keep safe. Everyone's got a key to their own, but a feral ain't clever enough to use one. I go feral in here, I'm no danger to anyone."

"What about the bonfire in the east courtyard?" I asked. "Why don't the ferals try to feed from that?"

"They do. But since it ain't got a Fire-Keeper looking after it, a feral will just keep feeding and feeding, and it'll die out to protect itself. Then the rest of us have to find a way to relight it, which ain't easy. And there's also the fact that a newly lit bonfire won't feed a larva's share to most changelings, and we ain't got nothing to kindle it with up here. So that's another good reason to keep the ferals in their cells."

The Changeling Asylum was a bizarre place to me, completely unlike any other prison I had ever heard of. I had to admit, though, it was certainly a novelty. The Inquisition had no need for prison guards because the prisoners were all too scared of each other and other local hazards. That demon out there likely did half the work for them. It was quite ingenious, really, at least when combined with all the other security measures.

"So, if you're here to rescue your friend, how do you plan to get him away?" asked Patches.

"I've got something worked out," I said. "If you help me find him, then I can take you with me."

He smiled at me.

"Alright!" he said, with a cheerful grin. "Sure thing. All you gotta do is let me outta this cell."

I gave him a blank look.

"I thought you all had your own keys here?"

"Oh, we do, mate! We do. But I lost mine, y'see. Dropped down a drain. I'm kinda stuck here."

"Well... how do I get you out, then?"

"There's another key I trusted to a dear friend of mine," said Patches. "Poor bastard probably went feral by now, but you can find him just a little ways down the hall."

I nodded. "Which cell?"

"Five doors down, on the opposite side from mine."

I glanced in the direction of the lone changeling again. It hadn't moved since I entered this cell block, still leaning against the wall with its face buried in its hooves. I was almost certain that it was feral. At least I had a sword this time.

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Drawing my sword and floating it ahead of me, I inched my way down the corridor, counting the cells as I passed. The fifth one down was uncomfortably close to the unrestrained feral, but it was still more distance than what separated me from the others, so I was probably safe so long as I didn't attract its attention.

Once I reached the cell I looked around inside. The prisoner was mirroring the other feral, leaning on the wall and covering its face just like its twin. The only difference was that this feral was sitting rather than standing. I noted with a frown that it was wearing some kind of silver pendant, set with a bright, round emerald. I wondered what the significance of that was, but I quickly put it out of mind and started looking for the key.

It was in the corner, old and rusty and covered in dirt. Or at least, I thought that was it. Looking closely, the feral was also sitting on a second key. If what Patches said was true, then one was for his cell, and one was for this cell. Since I had no way of knowing which was which, I used my magic to grab them both and float them over.

The changeling noticed me now. It sat up and lunged at the bars, hissing and snarling and baring its teeth at me. I dropped both keys in surprise. One was still inside the cell, while one clattered to the floor just by my hooves. Backing away from the cell, I picked up both again and manoeuvred the second key through the bars. The feral either didn't notice or didn't care. It just kept growling at me. I gave it a pitying look and stuffed the keys into my bags.

I cast my eyes over to the free feral. Despite all the noise that the prisoner was making, it wasn't stirring. I didn't question my luck. I just turned around and headed back in the other direction. The sound of the feral slamming itself into the bars echoed through the corridor as I walked away.

As I approached his cell, Patches gave me a bright grin.

"Ah, there you are! Got my key? Giss it 'ere."

I removed both keys from my bag and pushed them through into his cell with my magic.

"It's one of those two. You're welcome."

"Aw, thanks, mate! You're a diamond. Really, you are."

He picked the rustier one, the one that had been in the corner of the feral's cell, and began unlocking the door.

"So, my friend? Do you know where he'd be?"

Patches stepped out of the cell and dusted himself off.

"I can tell ya now, mate, he's not in this block. We ain't had nobody new in 'ere for well over a month. Where else have you checked?"

"Where else is there?"

"This is west block. South is below us along the wall, but that's usually empty." That was probably the outside area that I ran through after I got my sword. "That just leaves east block and upper east."

"There's an upper east block?" I hadn't noticed that. "How do we get to it?"

"How'd you get 'ere in the first place?" he said, giving me a toothy grin.

My heart sank.

"Oh, no. No way. There must be some secret passage around here somewhere. We cannot go outside with that... thing still prowling."

The sounds of the imprisoned feral's tantrum continued to echo down the corridor. At some point, I had tuned it out. That was a mistake. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the loud crack and that ominous clanging. I twisted my head back to look over my shoulder, and saw the feral changeling with the pendant crawling its way out of its cell through a gap it had made in the bars. For the second time that day, I stood frozen in shock, caught off-guard by the state of disrepair that this prison had fallen into.

It landed on the floor in a heap once it was free, before climbing to its hooves and charging towards me. Perhaps even worse, it had finally set off the second feral that was already out of its cell, so now two of the monsters were coming our way.

"Run!" Patches yelled.

I should have raised my sword and shield and prepared to fight. Instead I did as I was told. Patches and I bolted for the door, both of us completely forgetting what was waiting outside in our haste to escape these oncoming nightmares. I tore open the door with my magic just before we reached it. We ran out into the daylight together, and were immediately greeted by the sight of the Asylum demon in the courtyard below.

It looked up at us, momentarily surprised by our sudden appearance, but Patches didn't slow down to give it a chance to smash him, so neither did I. We ran across towards the west tower. He was able to reach it in time and ran inside. I got almost halfway there before the Asylum demon leapt up in front of me in a single bound. The whole wall shook as it landed. I lost my balance and nearly fell over. Then I felt a telekinetic field form around me.

"Oh please, Celestia, no!"

I thought it was going to toss me through the air. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it instead only wanted to slam me against the ramparts repeatedly. I covered my head with my hooves in an effort to prevent a concussion, and cried out in pain as each impact made me bruise and bleed. I think some of my ribs broke. Then it turned me over in the air. It was just about to break my spine on the stonework when something else caught its attention.

The feral changelings emerged from the prison and charged over towards me, oblivious to the Asylum demon. The demon let me go and I dropped to the ground. I tried to pull myself up. It stepped over me and plodded over to the approaching ferals. I didn't look back to see the carnage. I heard shrieking and wailing, sickening cracking sounds, liquid dripping over stone, and the demon crunching something between its massive teeth, but I didn't see any of it. I was limping away to the west tower as fast as I could.

As soon as I was inside, I slammed the door shut again. My nerves felt like they were on fire, and as my heartbeat finally slowed, the pain only got worse. Patches was nowhere to be seen, so all I could do was drag myself into a corner. There, I lay down and cried.





The Asylum demon was still stomping around outside ten minutes later, but I knew I couldn't just stay in the tower being frightened. My injuries were severe, damn near crippling, in fact, but I had no healing magic, and there was nobody in this forsaken place that would save me. If I didn't force myself up, I would die here. So force myself up I did.

The way to the southeast wall was no longer blocked. In his haste to escape the Asylum demon, it looked like Patches had physically broken down the door, which now lay on the stone outside. Wherever he was, he had cleared a path for me to go ahead and find him. I gave a wan smile and limped outside. My body was in a state of extreme pain and exhaustion, but it would all be worth it. I would reunite with Patches, liberate Notch, and we would all escape this horrid place together, fireballs, ferals, and demons be damned.

I used some magic to slow my fall as I dropped from the ramparts into the courtyard, and limped over to the bonfire. I sat by it to warm myself for a second, but only for a second, and then looked around for any sign of where Patches could've gone.

I spotted a rusty gate, roughly the right size for a pony, hidden away in the corner of the courtyard. Heading over to it, I saw that there were steps on the other side, presumably leading to the upper east block that Patches mentioned. But the gate was locked, and unlike myself, Patches had no climbing equipment to help him scale the walls here.

It seemed that the only place he could've gone was the lower east block, so I headed over towards the dungeon entrance, stepped past the corpse, and descended into that miserable place for the second time that day. Sure enough, I found Patches pacing back and forth in the first corridor, before any of the inhabited cells. He stopped in his tracks once he saw me, and broke into another grin.

"Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you weren't coming back... 'Ere, you look horrible, mate."

"Thanks," I grumbled. "Now, are you going to help me find my friend?"

"Oh, certainly! Certainly! But, if there's one thing I can ask before we get to all that... how is it you plan on getting us all out of here once we do?"

"There's a boat waiting for us over the outer wall, and I've got a climbing rope," I said. "The sailor I hired is gonna leave without us if we take too long, though. So it's important we find Notch quickly."

"Really?" Patches looked at me with uncomfortably hungry-looking eyes. "Where exactly? Which wall?"

"U-Uh..." I faltered. "S-South wall. Like I said, if you can just help me find Notch, I'm sure there'll be space in the boat for the four of—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Patches was engulfed in a flash of green flames, lasting just a moment before he emerged in a new form. Where before he had just been a naked changeling like any other, now he was dressed in some raggedy patchwork armour of leather and steel, with a single shoulder guard, a scabbard by his side, and most surprisingly of all, an intact horn.

In my injured state and surprise at the sudden change, I didn't have time to react before he reached out with his magic, drew his sword, and plunged it into my chest.

"Hurghk!" My eyes widened, and I looked down at the blade buried in me. "W-Why?"

His grin took on a sinister look, but he said nothing. He withdrew the sword, and I collapsed against the prison wall. I tried to lift my hooves to cover the wound, but I no longer had the strength. My eyelids felt heavy, so I closed them as I slid to the ground. It was so cold.

"Sorry, mate, but souls are precious nowadays."

He touched his horn to my head, and grabbed me with his telekinesis. Except it didn't feel like it was on my skin. Even though I was rapidly losing awareness of the rest of my body, I could tell the difference. His magic wasn't gripping my physical self, but instead something much more fundamental to me.

Then it pulled. I gave a little cry of protest, as much as I could muster at that moment, as my soul was torn from my body. Immediately my sense of fading strength became a feeling of absolute weakness. I felt like nothing. I opened my eyes again for a second, and saw Patches holding a small yellow orb of energy in his hooves, which was rapidly crystallising. He looked at me, saw that I was awake, and then stopped smiling.

"Oh, sod."

He flashed with green again, and suddenly I was looking at a mirror image of myself, or at least, myself as I looked when I wasn't battered half to death by a demon. The orange coat, the wild black mane, and the golden yellow eyes were all as familiar to me as my own name. And there, upon his flank, he even wore my cutie mark, the mark of a bonfire.

Patches looked down at my soul, still held in his hooves—in my hooves—and then back at me. Then, just like that, he ate it. Literally, that was what it looked like. He tossed it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed in a matter of seconds. I stared at him incredulously, but he didn't seem to care. He unceremoniously flipped me over, his magic now taking on a golden hue just like mine, and pulled the saddlebags off my back.

"Sorry to kill ya and run, but... you'll be coming back soon anyway, and I don't wanna be here when it happens."

"Wait..." I moaned, face-down on the floor.

He didn't stop to talk further. Patches galloped away out of the cell block and left me there. The shock of what he had done to me had revitalised me for just a minute there, but now I was rapidly fading again. Everything was becoming cold and dark. In my last seconds, all I could think about was how I'd failed Notch.

I closed my eyes for what I assumed would be the last time, and I strayed out of conscious thought...





I came back to life screaming. My eyes shot open and I sat up suddenly, fixated on a phantom pain in my chest where I could swear I still felt Patches stabbing me. I looked down at it and saw that there was nothing there. I didn't even have a wound there anymore. But still, it wouldn't stop hurting. I stood up and tried to lean against the wall and wait for it to subside.

"Agh! Gah! Celestia, have mercy..."

My eyes stung with tears. I held my hooves against where it hurt. Looking down, I could see my own dried blood matting my coat, which itself was slightly greyer than usual. It took me longer than it should've to add it all up. Greying coat. Wound mysteriously closed. Standing up again after I was sure I was going to die. And all this immediately after losing my soul to a changeling. I slowly turned my head to look back at my own flank.

There, where my cutie mark should've been, was a black splotch and a circle of red flames. The accursed darksign.

"No..." I muttered, shaking my head. "No! No! No! Not me! Why me?"

I stomped my hooves and squeezed my eyes shut. Like my chest wound, all the injuries from my earlier encounter with the Asylum demon had vanished. In fact, though I didn't notice it at the time, the phantom pain from the stabbing was also starting to subside. But it was small consolation. I had been branded by the mark of the undead curse. I was soulless. I was fateless. I was doomed to die again and again, losing myself to despair until I became hollow. I would be no different than these feral changelings that surrounded me, except that unlike them, not even death would cure my madness.

It wasn't fair! Why did such a ghastly thing have to happen to me? I'd never lived to hurt anybody, whether they be pony or changeling. I'd worked diligently. I'd cared for my friends. I admit that I was far from pious, but I hadn't lived a wicked life either, had I? I had never stolen from others, nor wantonly lusted for the affection of mares, nor consorted with dark powers. Was this just punishment for my lack of faith? Or did fate really care so little for me that I was stricken by this curse by mere chance?

I had already cried so many times that day, but never more so than I cried at that moment. All I wanted then, all I wished for, was something to ease the pain. In my misery, I did not hear the approaching sound of hoofsteps, nor did I look up to see the figure approaching me. But I noticed his shadow when he stood over me, and I heard the concern in his voice when he spoke.

"Firelink?"

I looked up, slowly. Notch was frozen there, sans horn and wings, his mouth very slightly open and his big blue eyes flicking between my face and the darksign on my flank. A changeling's eyes are so clear and bright, one can see their reflection in them. I could see myself in his. My own eyes had lost their colour. They were not golden yellow, but a milky white. Yet another indicator that my soul was truly gone.

I didn't say anything. I just grabbed ahold of him and sobbed into his shoulder.





My friend and I sat by the bonfire out in the courtyard. The stomping of the Asylum demon in the distance was but a minor concern, and we watched the skies as the fire still raged in the clouds overhead, now having moved to the area over the east of the Asylum. The straight sword and tiny wooden shield lay next to us, now the last of my possessions. Notch eked out what energy he could from the sputtering pink bonfire, while I just held out my hooves and tried to keep myself warm.

"I never would have asked you to come here," said Notch. "I'm not worth the pain you put yourself through for me."

"You're my friend," I said, giving him a half-smile. "I couldn't leave you to lose your mind in this place."

Notch looked away from me, staring into the fire.

"I appreciate it, Firelink. You've got a good heart."

I sighed.

"I only wish I could've actually saved us both. If I hadn't let myself be fooled by that lout, Patches, I would still have my soul, and the boat wouldn't have left without us... How did he even keep his horn? Wouldn't the Inquisition check for tricks like that?"

"I don't know," said Notch, not taking his eyes off the fire. "But he wouldn't have needed it anyway. A changeling's disguise magic doesn't require a horn. It's more like how earth ponies channel magic through their muscles. Inquisition can't take that away from us. Not without some real fancy spellwork."

"What about taking my soul?" I asked. "It certainly felt like he used his horn for that."

"Same principle applies. A horn helps, but it's not actually necessary. Good thing, too, otherwise the Inquisition taking them from us would be a death sentence."

I nodded.

"Again, I'm sorry this happened to you," said Notch, looking straight at me this time.

"It's not your fault, Notch."

He shrugged. "Rationally, I know it isn't. But I still feel bad. I still feel like it's my fault for getting captured, because if I hadn't been, you wouldn't have come here. You sacrificed so much for me."

"You would've done the same for me, right?"

"Of course I would've. Why would you even ask that?"

I smiled at him, but it soon died down again. I looked back to the sky, my eyes following the mysterious fiery glow coming through the clouds as it moved over us, heading northwest.

"What are we gonna do, Notch?"

Notch looked up at the sky with me, tilting his head slightly in that way he did when he was thinking of something.

"If we can't climb or fly our way over the walls, the only way out is through the front gate."

A lump formed in my throat. "B-But the front gate is..."

I went quiet and let the distant sound of the Asylum demon's stomping make my point for me.

Notch sighed.

"I know. But the only way out is through."

"It'll kill us, Notch."

"I know."

I leaned in closer to look my friend in the eyes.

"And if it kills me, do you know what happens? I'm undead now. I'll keep coming back. Again and again. And that thing will keep killing me. And every time it does, I'll be driven further and further to despair and madness until I hollow."

Notch squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from me.

"Please, Notch, there must be another way..."

"There isn't, Firelink. There really isn't. I'm sorry, but it's true."

I curled in ball in front of the bonfire, laying my face on the stone floor. I didn't even care how cold and filthy it was. I held my tail in my forehooves and stroked it, shivering despite the heat coming off the fire. Notch glanced my way and sighed.

"Look, undead only hollow if they don't have souls, and I'm not out of spare magic myself. I can give you a little of my soul. You'll be safe to die a few times without worry, and that's something that can't be said for me, because I've only got one life."

I looked up at him.

"No, that's... you can do that?" He nodded. "And... this is our plan? We're just gonna rush by the Asylum demon and hope that it doesn't kill me too many times?"

"It's not a good plan, but at least it's a plan."

"Notch..." I sighed. "Even if I don't hollow right away... it's going to hurt. Dying hurts, even if it's just once. I'm... I'm still afraid."

Notch didn't say anything. He just patted me on the back in a wordless gesture of sympathy. The meaning was clear: "I'm sorry, but this is all I can do."

I climbed to my hooves and sighed again.

"Screw it. Let's try. What's the worst that could happen?"





When Notch gifted me with a piece of his soul, I felt just a little of my old strength returning to me. My magic came back, having been missing since I was murdered by Patches, my cutie mark returned, albeit now merged the darksign so that the ring of fire surrounded my mark and the black splotch acted as a backdrop to it, and my eyes even regained their colour. Nonetheless, I knew that I did not have nearly as much magic to spare as I used to have, so I was not going to waste it.

Rather than levitating my sword and shield, I decided to handle them physically. I held the straight sword by the claw-grip with my mouth this time instead of by magic, despite how uncomfortable it was, and I strapped the wooden shield to my left forehoof, just as the dead changeling had done. I tried to ignore the green gunk on the inside of it brushing against my knee. Notch questioned the usefulness of having such a tiny shield made of so weak a material, but I maintained that it was better than having nothing. At the very least, it'd have a lot more stability if I were actually holding it instead of floating it in front of me. Now it at least had something physical backing it up.

Levitating a shield had been a stupid idea anyway. If I was going to use magic to defend myself, I would've been better served learning a shield spell.

Deprived as I was of anything else to protect myself with, that was all the preparation we could do, and so Notch and I decided to go ahead with our insane plan. We stood before the large, locked gate that led between the two courtyards, and looked aside at each other.

"This is probably going to be very draining," said Notch. "Since I have the more spare magic of the two of us, and I can feed from the bonfire to get more, I'll try to bring it down. You save what little you have. You'll need it if you die again."

I nodded and stepped back, as Notch approached the door and placed his hooves on them. Changelings were meant to be able to passably imitate any of the three kinds of pony, and that included earth ponies. Although he had neither wings nor a horn anymore, there wasn't much the Inquisition could do about his strength; earth ponies and changelings both channelled that power through their very muscles. Notch put that power to use, grunting and straining as he pushed at the giant doors. Slowly, they began to creak open.

Then a roar came from the other side. My eyes widened.

"Get back!"

The doors burst open the wrong way, now bent and hanging by their hinges. The Asylum demon poked its head through the gap and tried to force its way into the eastern courtyard. My blood ran cold as I rapidly backed away from it. Notch was on the floor and disoriented, but quickly got up and started doing the same. The Asylum demon was halfway through when its hindquarters got stuck in the doorway. It looked back over its own shoulder and screamed its furious scream. Then it began shaking and struggling, and cracks appeared in the brickwork around the doors.

I cringed as the demon pulled itself loose. It fell forward into the courtyard, landing on its face. Ancient bricks broke away and flew outwards in all directions, one landing dangerously close to me. The wall collapsed and kicked up a great dust pile behind the demon, which had already begun to pick itself up again.

"Now! Move!" I shouted to Notch.

I bolted for the ruined remains of the door and skipped over the pile of bricks, as well as the wreckage of the barrels and crates that had once occupied the other side until the earlier dramatics had destroyed them. Emerging from the dust cloud, I could see that Notch was with me. I gave him a manic grin as we ran for a small door on the north side of the courtyard, one which would hopefully lead out to the front gate on the north side of the Asylum.

Behind us, the demon was up and waddling back into the western courtyard. I looked back at it for a brief second. I swear its eyes were almost aflame, but we were nearly clear. Notch ran through the door ahead of me. Freedom was within reach. And then a cloudy wall of some kind appeared in my way.

"No!" I screamed.

I hit the wall of fog. It was like I'd run face-first into a giant pillow. It didn't hurt, at least physically, but it was still solid, and it was still in my way. I instinctively wanted to try moving it out of the way with magic, but that wouldn't have done any good. I wasn't sure what this was. Conjuration? Summoning? Some bizarre application of weather magic? Whatever it was, I immediately knew that it was beyond my skills.

The stomping of the demon behind me came closer. I turned around to face the beast. The monster towered over me, easily four times my height, and cast a long shadow. I whimpered, ready for it to grab me with its magic and brutalise me, but instead it reared up on its hind legs and prepared to slam them down on me. I needed no other warning to get out from underneath him. I leapt sideways to get out of range as it brought them down and cracked the stone where I had been standing. I ran around its side to get out of its field of view.

There was no way I was going to avoid this thing in this enclosed space, so I decided that I might as well attack. Running in close to its back legs, I swung my neck around and cut its ankles with my sword. The rubbery skin gave way to my blade, and I was sprayed with a shower of red as the thing screamed and turned in place to face me. At least it could bleed.

In my mind, I could picture it grabbing me with its magic attack again. I didn't want to be in front of this thing, so I darted between its legs. Underneath the demon, I slashed at its back leg again, getting in three quick strikes and causing some heavy bleeding. The demon's pained cries were music to my ears. I was making progress! I could do this! This thing could be killed! And I could kill it!

Unfortunately, I had gotten complacent in my strategy of hiding underneath the demon to attack its legs. Without warning, it flopped on top of me, crushing me underneath its massive weight. My bones cracked, and suddenly I was in agony again, a breathless agony even worse than being smashed against the floor by the demon's magic. I had thought that I knew pain after that incident, but this was true pain.

The urge to scream and my inability to breathe forced me to let go of my sword to do it, but I grabbed ahold of it with my magic again and tried to ram it upwards. The demon shifted and rolled off of me at long last. I lay on the ground, crippled and feeling a burning pain all over, but my magic still lifted my sword, and at least I could breathe again, if unevenly. Over to my left, the demon was backing up and leaning against the southern wall. A long cut across its stomach bled lightly.

I couldn't stand up for the life of me, but I knew that this wouldn't last. If I died here, I would revive. I was going to use what few minutes of life I had left to cause this abominable creature as much pain as possible. Guided by my magic, I flung my sword straight on towards it, and plunged it into the beast's eye.

The shrieking and flailing was a sight to behold, but I lost my magical grip on the sword.

"Guh..." I tried to stand again, but once more fell on my back. "Vile thing... Come and... face me..."

False bravado was doing me no good, though. The demon wrenched the sword out of its eye and threw it aside, out of my reach. Then it stomped across the courtyard towards me. This time, I really had nothing. I was about to die. But for once, I had hope. Because I knew that I could come back from this, and this thing couldn't. When I woke up, I would be ready to go again, while this monster would still be licking its wounds. It could take several deaths, but I was sure I could finish it now.

It picked me up with its magic and lifted me to its face. The stench of its breath was like rotting vegetables and animal carcasses. I grimaced.

"Do your worst!" I shouted at it.

It opened its mouth wide, but then something struck it in the face. I yelped as it let go of me and I dropped to the ground. I hit the stone with a painful yet comparatively mild thud, while the demon staggered back, standing on its hind legs and covering its face with its hands. I twisted my head to look over to the doorway. The fog cover had disappeared, and Notch ran out into the courtyard.

"Get inside!" he yelled at me.

"But I—"

"Hey! Over here, ugly!"

I didn't get a chance to explain my condition to Notch before he came charging across the courtyard. As he ran, he picked up loose rocks off the ground, and slung them at the Asylum demon with all his strength, shouting taunts at it. They pelted creature's hide, but were not nearly as effective as my sword had been. Then the demon's antler-bones began glowing, and it erected a shimmering green barrier in front of itself. A shield spell. This creature was definitely more intelligent than I had given credit for.

Notch's remaining rocks bounced harmlessly off the shield. The demon recovered and advanced. Notch looked back at me, and was surprised to see me still lying in place. He turned tail and ran from the demon, trying to get to me, but it was too late. The demon dropped its shield and grasped Notch with its magic.

Notch managed one last lingering, apologetic look before the Asylum demon pulled him back across the courtyard, grabbed him out of the air with its clawed hands, and slammed him down on the stone. Notch was crushed under its weight. Unlike with myself, the demon did not just sit on him, but lifted its hoof and brought it down on him again and again. His chitin cracked, fluids spilled everywhere, and by the end of it, all that was left of Notch was a big green smear on the floor.

Then it stomped its way over to me. I didn't move, didn't say anything, and didn't resist. When it crushed me just like it did to him, I almost didn't feel it at all.





When I awoke, I didn't scream like last time. I gave a startled gasp as my eyes opened, but that was it. I sat up and slowly stood. The courtyard was empty. The Asylum demon was gone. The ruined remains of the wall were still there, and there was still a dried green patch where Notch had fallen, but no sign of the creature. No sign of the rest of his body, either. I guessed that the demon had eaten it.

I shivered.

"I'm sorry, Notch," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He had been trying to save me. Even though I could come back from dying, he had wanted to save my life anyway. It was probably because of how afraid I'd been of hollowing. He'd given up his one life to save one of my many, just to spare me that little bit more pain and fear. Had he felt like he owed me? I wouldn't have ever wanted him to do that for me. I wanted him to live. That was why I had came here, damn it!

I was all out of tears, so I held back on crying. Instead, I sat by the blood stain and stared vacantly at the floor.

I'd known him all my life, since I was a foal and he was a larvae. We'd always done everything together, stuck together through thick and thin. Granted, he had always been a little more standoffish than most, and was never one for physical affection (he'd said he didn't want it to look like he was using me to feed), but he was the closest friend I'd ever had. My best friend.

I took a deep breath and stood up. I didn't want to sit there any longer. I knew if I stayed there to mourn, I would never stop mourning. I would hollow on that spot, and I couldn't allow that to happen. Notch had died trying to help me escape, so I was going to escape. This trip had been a waste, but I would not let his sacrifice also be in vain. I would go back home, find something else to live for, and do something meaningful with the time that he had given me. That was how the undead held onto themselves, and it was how I was going to have to as well from then on.

The fog wall over the northern passage had somehow disappeared during the battle. With the way now clear, I took a hesitant step, and passed through into a long tunnel. No torches lit the way, but that was fine, because at least there was daylight at the end. When I emerged into the open air again, I found myself outside the Changeling Asylum at long last, standing on a cobblestone path with the castle behind me. To think that we had been this close to freedom...

I found myself atop a grassy cliff, with the cobblestone path leading to the cliff's edge. More burnt wreckage and corpses were scattered all around, some still lightly smouldering. I turned in place, looking for any sign of the sky-fire that had been around before, but I could find it nowhere.

With a shrug, I ambled forward along the path, until I came to the cliff's edge, overlooking a vast, icy mountain range. From up here, I could see burning ships and docks below, with dead inquisitors everywhere. A pathway further west along the cliffs led down the side of the Asylum's steep hill and to the docks below. If I was ever going to escape this place, that seemed like the obvious way out. For the moment, however, I couldn't muster up the care to take the trek down. I was exhausted, so I stayed there at the edge of the cliff to rest a while, taking in the sight of the distant mountains.

"Well..." I sighed. "At least the worst of it is behind me..."

There was an orange glow in the clouds ahead of me. I craned my neck upwards, expecting it to start raining fire on the docks. But instead, something burst through the clouds and swooped down. It was a bird. A giant, flaming bird of prey, comparable in size to the demon, with legs as thick as tree branches and wings larger than any I'd seen. A phoenix. One of the legendary great phoenixes. And it was coming straight towards me.

I almost felt resigned to this now.

"Please no..." I said to my next probable cause of death.

It swooped low and closed its massive talons around me. Then it pulled up, and we rose into the air.

Suddenly I was high above the Changeling Asylum, which was getting smaller and smaller below me. That wretched demon was now prowling around the east end of the castle. From up here I could see the docks, and the shore by the south wall where I'd arrived, and the many fires dotted in and around the Asylum, which I now knew to have been the work of this phoenix which was abducting me. I could even almost swear that I saw my boat somewhere on the ocean below, no doubt carrying the old sailor and Patches back home.

"This is just going to be how my life is from now on, isn't it?" I said, more to myself than anything.

The phoenix screeched.

I rolled my eyes.

"Fantastic."











"Thou who art undead art chosen..."




> Chapter 2: With the Worst of Them
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wasn't sure how long I had been in the grip of the great phoenix. It flew for hours over endless waters beneath a ceaseless grey sky, never rising above the clouds even when it began raining. The journey almost would have been boring were it not so uncomfortable and frightening. The phoenix's talons were a constant ache in my side, and the perilous height was always in the back of my mind. The terrible weather conditions, fortunately, were less of a concern. The wind and rain should have left me soaked to the bone and shivering, but the heat of my captor kept the cold at bay. Fire danced over its feathers, and the flames were close enough that they should have burned me, but somehow they didn't. It seemed as if the creature could control the intensity of its own heat, and had mercifully chosen not to cook me just yet.

While I had been afraid at first, my fear subsided as the hours dragged by. After a while, I no longer expected the phoenix to suddenly drop me into the sea or attempt to eat me. More and more, I got the impression that it wanted something else from me, but I couldn't guess what. In the midst of the terrible storm, I pondered why it had killed every other pony and griffon at the Asylum, but had spared me, and instead chose to abduct me and carry me southwest across the Sea of Ghosts. I'd hoped at first that it was taking me back to the Griffish Isles, but we had passed them ages ago, so now I had no idea.

Still, I kept tight-lipped and clung to the phoenix's leg, basking in its warmth to take refuge from the rain and the chill winds. All I could do then was hope that in time, its intentions would become clear.

All throughout the journey, thoughts of Notch and my curse kept drifting to the forefront of my mind. Each time they did, I closed my eyes and grimaced, shaking my head until they went away. I couldn't think about it. Not once, not ever. It was just like sitting by that little green patch back at the Asylum. If I stopped to mourn, I would never stop mourning. Despair leads to hollowing. I couldn't let that be my fate.

I was not in despair. I would not hollow in the grip of the phoenix. My mind was clear of guilt and sadness. Whatever happened next, I would find new purpose, and I would never look back.

Everything was going to be fine.





Chapter 2:
With the Worst of Them





At some point I drifted off to sleep. In my dreams, I was back in Brittlesworth, Notch by my side once more. We would work and talk and spend time together, grumbling about inconsequential things and musing on the situation in the world outside our village. He visited my house to play cards, and there we talked of work and other mutual friends. It was a pleasant experience, but it lasted only a moment, flashing by in an instant in that odd way that dreams sometimes do.

But then a darkness took hold, and my perception of time slowed to something resembling normality. I was not entirely lucid, as I remained unaware for the moment that I was dreaming, but at the same time, the dream had ceased to feel dreamlike. No longer was I drifting without rhyme or reason through a series of vaguely related scenes from my life. Instead, I was anchored there in my home, sitting at that table with Notch as the light drained out of the room.

I didn't even know that I wasn't awake, but I knew with the certainty that only dreams bring that something was coming for me, even if I didn't know what that something was. An unearthly wailing echoed. Notch exploded in a shower of green gore that splattered all over me. I screamed. Then the Asylum demon smashed in my roof and chased me out. I stood back in the middle of the village, watching it crush the building into pieces.

Around me, Brittlesworth burned, even as the bonfire in the centre of the village died. Hollows and feral changelings were laying siege to my home, killing people and stealing their souls. I looked down at my hoof, and found it grey and rotten. Tears streamed down my face. Then I heard that horrible noise. It was like some huge and terrible beast was... not breathing, but instead just inhaling without end.

I slowly turned to the source of the noise. An equine spectre was manifesting before me. Its entire body was covered in metal armour, spiked on the knees and shoulders, but with motifs of bones elsewhere. A metal spine and ribs decorated the exterior of its armour. Beneath its hood, a mask fashioned in the image of a pony's skull stared unblinkingly at me. The spectre glowed with a foreboding blackish-red aura that made it the most visible thing amongst the carnage around us.

It marched over towards me. I did not see a horn glow from beneath its hood, but it nevertheless levitated a sword whose blade alone was longer than my body, and near half as wide. It pointed this absurdly large sword straight at me, and I didn't even try to run. The thing grabbed me by the neck with its hooves and pushed me down to the floor, and then it began choking me.

"What... are... you?" I gasped out.

The sword floated over me, the tip of the blade pressed to my forehead. I whimpered and tried to close my eyes, but like in any nightmare, my eyelids were transparent, and did nothing to hide the horror. The nightmare raised the sword.

Then there was a burst of light and sound from somewhere to my left. I looked over suddenly, and the monster did too. I could almost imagine a look of surprise underneath that mask. A wall of pink fire lit up the village, approaching us from the west, and the flames roared as they came closer. The nightmare turned back to me and raised his sword again, quicker this time, but the wall of fire hit us both as he brought it down.

The nightmare was burned away before he could finish me, along with all of Brittlesworth, and the monsters destroying it. His anguished scream echoed from the other side of the fire as I passed through it. For a moment, I fell through a void of blue starlight, flailing and trying to right myself. Then my descent slowed, and the world began to take form once more. Around me, grass and stone ruins appeared, and my hooves settled on solid ground. I now stood beside a bonfire, small and weak, just like the one at Woods' End.

I looked around at my new surroundings. The sky was as black as I had ever seen, moonless, despite all sense saying that now was Luna's time. I could only assume that an unseen cloud cover was obscuring the moonlight, because the alternative was too terrifying to contemplate. I could not see far, but the bonfire and I were in the middle of a stone pit, shallow and round, which had steps around its rim to sit on instead of benches. Grass grew everywhere outside the pit, but it looked trampled and flat. A giant dead tree towered over the area to my right, making root just beside the pit. On the opposite side was something that looked like a well, except lacking a bucket and winch.

What struck me most about the area, however, were the crumbling stone archways in front of me, forming a semicircle around the bonfire pit. Strolling over to these archways, I found that they had been built on the edge of a cliff. I didn't know how long the drop was, since it was so dark, but I could see tree tops below me.

"Hmph," I said, staring over the edge. "Well then."

Was I still dreaming? I didn't know. I knew now that the siege of Brittlesworth had been a nightmare, but was this the waking world, or was I still asleep? It felt real, but then again, a dream always does to a dreamer.

I turned around to go back to the fire, and froze in place. There was a new figure sitting on the steps by the edge of the pit, one who I hadn't noticed there before. He had the shape of a pony, and he was very big, as tall sitting down as I was standing. Black plate armour covered him all over, and he had a great square shield strapped to his back. It looked heavy, but his posture didn't suggest any kind of discomfort from it. In fact, he seemed almost relaxed. Not that I could tell for sure with his face obscured by that cylindrical helmet he wore. I noted his sword, half-buried in the ground by his side. It was massive, easily twice the size of the one that the nightmare had been carrying, which had itself been very impressive.

I gulped, causing him to finally notice me. He turned his helmeted head my way. For a moment, we both remained still, until he raised a hoof and beckoned me to come closer.

His apparent lack of hostility made my heartbeat calm again, so I approached and sat down next to the hulking armoured pony. He held out a flask of water, one which I could have sworn he hadn't been holding a second ago. Hesitantly, I reached out with my magic and took it.

"...Thank you," I said.

I took a drink, quenching a deep thirst that I hadn't noticed I had until that moment.

"You're new here." The pony's voice was deep and rumbling, but carried with it a gentle inflection that got an uneasy smile out of me.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm not even really sure where 'here' is."

He raised a hoof and gestured to the ruins all around us.

"This is the Fire-Keeper's Dream," he said. "It is a safe place. A bulwark against the nightmares that rule the rest of the dreaming world."

I blinked.

"So... I am still dreaming?"

"Hmmm..." He tilted his head. "Where are you from? You seem... foreign."

"Uh... the Griffish Isles."

"Griffish Isles... I've heard of them. That is east of here. Far east. You are new to Equestria. You've never been in the Fire-Keeper's Dream before, have you?"

I did a double take.

"Wait, Equestria?" I repeated, incredulous. "I'm in Equestria?"

"If you are able to reach the Fire-Keeper's Dream, then physically, you must be. Do you not remember being in Equestria back in the waking world?"

"I... I was..." Then it came back to me. "I was being carried by that phoenix..."

"Phoenix?"

"A great phoenix. Massive thing. It snatched me up and carried me away after..." 

I stopped. Thoughts of Notch began resurfacing, so I shook my head and tried to bury them again. I didn't need to think about that right now. The past was behind me.

"You did not plan to be here," said the armoured pony. "You had an encounter with a Darkwraith, didn't you?"

I didn't answer him, and instead took another drink from the flask. I wondered if dream water ever ran out?

"If you were accosted by a hooded, spectral knight, then that was most certainly a Darkwraith you encountered. They rule this land, and terrorise us all across the dreaming world, unless one sleeps by a bonfire. I would wager that your phoenix dropped you off by one back in the physical world."

I sat up.

"So... who are you then?" I asked. "Another dreamer?"

"I'm nopony important," he said. "Just an old knight well past his prime."

"But what do I call you?"

He held out a hoof. "Sir Black Iron of Daylight."

I put down the flask and returned the gesture.

"Firelink Soul of Brittlesworth."

After we ended the hoofshake, I picked up the flask again and looked inside. Sure enough, the water had refilled. I shrugged and put it back down. There would be time to question the nature of dreams later.

"So what are the Darkwraiths? Why did they come after me?"

"They were already here when my fellow knights and I arrived, so I am ignorant to their origins, but I do know that whatever they are now, they were once ponies like ourselves. Whatever dark pacts they made, it gave them frightful power. And with that power, they gained a hunger for souls that cannot be sated. Always they crave more. What they have is never enough. One wonders what they even need it for, but alas, I cannot fathom their motives."

I stewed on that for a moment, thinking back to the monstrous creature that had nearly killed me.

"But they cannot manifest here? I'm safe if I sleep by the bonfires?"

"Your dream self is safe, yes. They cannot penetrate the Fire-Keeper's Dream. Harmony protects us here. But your body is a different matter."

"What can a dream do to my body?" I asked, frowning.

Sir Iron sighed. "Sadly, quite a lot. You wouldn't think that nightmares could menace the waking world, but you would be mistaken. After the night passes and the dreamers venture out from the safety of the bonfires, the Darkwraiths cross between worlds to continue the hunt."

My pupils shrunk.

"...They... can cross into the real world?"

"And so much more than that. They do not traverse this world by mere dream-walking. They are here in this world, physically, and so too may they physically appear anywhere in the waking world by crossing between the dimensions. Nowhere is truly safe, except the Fire-Keeper's Dream."

My jaw hung open.

"So you're telling me that these ponies can come after me anywhere, at any time, even when I'm sleeping, and that if they kill me they're going to steal my soul?"

"They are the greatest menace of our time," said Sir Iron, nodding. "Fortunately, there aren't that many of them. Maybe three hundred in all. You'll not see them that often so long as you sleep by the bonfires."

"Can't they kill me in the physical world while I'm by a bonfire?" I asked.

"It is possible, but highly unlikely. The Fire of Friendship burns with a magic that is anathema to their kind. They are of the Dark. To attempt to kill you while you rest in the Fire's light would be extremely painful for them. No single mortal soul could be worth the effort."

I slumped in place.

"Any other horrifying facts about Equestria I should know?"

"Nothing I would not presume you to know already. There are hollows aplenty all across Equestria, feral changelings abound in the south, and up in the north you'll find demons wandering down from the Lost Empire. There might also be a few monsters here and there, but they are nowhere near as aggressive as demons, so I wouldn't worry about those. You can just run away from most of them. Except the dragons. Do not antagonise a dragon. Ever."

I picked up the water flask again, trying to see if I could turn it into hard cider with pure willpower, because I desperately needed something stronger right now. Alas, no such luck. 

"Sir Iron, I can't stay here," I said. "I don't know how to fight. This land is going to kill me, and worse. I don't want to go hollow out here. I want to go back home to my family."

He shrugged.

"I wish I could help you, but I do not know of any way out of Equestria now that we're here. I think that there might be a few cities on the east coast that are still inhabited... Manehattan is one. Baltimare is another. But the way I hear, they are all highly paranoid of undead. If you can get in, and they don't have you dissolved, you might be able to charter a ship, but..."

I sighed.

"Right."

"But I may be wrong. Once you wake up, you can try asking somepony else for help. Most inland towns are more tolerant of undead than the cities are."

"Will you be there when I wake up?" I asked.

Sir Iron looked away from me.

"I am far from where you are," he said, a sombre note entering his voice. "I will be here in the dream whenever you need me, but I'm afraid that once you're in the waking world, I can no longer help you. You will have to make your own way."

"But... Sir Iron, I told you, I cannot fight. If the physical world is as full of hollows and ferals and demons as you say it is, I'll get torn apart!"

"Do you have a weapon or armour?"

I bowed my head. "I lost my sword earlier. All I've got is a wooden roundshield."

Sir Iron looked at the ground too.

"Find another weapon, and find some decent armour. Pull them off of corpses if you have to. The dead won't mind. It's more important that you protect yourself."

"And then what?" I asked. "Even if I have all that, I still won't know how to fight. What do I do then?"

He slowly turned his head towards me.

"Get good," he said simply.

There was silence between us. Then the world around me began distorting. The colours started to blur and fade, and things started becoming indistinct. Even as dark as the Fire-Keeper's Dream already was, it soon became darker still.

I looked around in a panic, but Sir Iron was calm.

"You appear to be waking up," he said, his voice slowing. "Good luck, Firelink. I hope to see you again..."

"Wait...!"





A stiff breeze caressed my back as my eyes cracked open. Most of my body was pressed against cold stone, but my cheek rested on grass and earth. Above, an empty blue sky stared back at me. I rolled over and pulled myself up, and found that I was sitting on the edge of a stone pit with a bonfire in the middle.

Wait a moment, I thought.

I turned in place to take in my surroundings. This place looked exactly like the Fire-Keeper's Dream, except illuminated by sunlight now. There was the bonfire pit, the well, the dead tree, and even the semicircle of stone arches on the edge of a small cliff overlooking a forest. Except that now, in the light of day, I could see beyond the forest. And what I saw was magnificent.

In the distance, beyond the stone archways and the forest, was the tallest mountain that I had ever seen in my life. It rose an impossible distance, piercing the sky itself, clouds obscuring its tallest peak. At its highest point, it was capped with snow, but most of the mountain was exposed rock. And on the mountain's right side, a waterfall cascaded down to a place beyond the forest. I imagined that it formed a winding river that would go on for miles.

But what most caught my eye about the mountain was the city. It was like no other city I had ever seen. It almost hung off the mountain face, positioned halfway between the base and the peak. The city was a grand structure, built of smooth white marble with motifs of gold. Unlike the efficient, square structures of Port Cruelsea, or the humble abodes of the villages which I had visited, this city was all spires and domed rooftops, with circular towers and castle walls.

Most mesmerising of all was how the whole city glowed in the sunlight. I felt drawn in by it, like a moth towards a flame. I even reached out with my hoof, attempting to touch it, but reality quickly came crashing down, and I realised that the distance between us was simply too great. I let out a little whine, and tried to rein in my disappointment as I lowered my hoof.

I want to go there.

I spent several minutes there, gazing longingly at the white and gold city, but it was useless to just sit there and stare all day. Now that I was awake, I remembered, I needed to get to work on a survival plan. I turned my back on the city and surveyed the rest of the area.

On the other side of the bonfire pit from the forest were several ruined and crumbling walls, which had more archways leading through them. The closest walls were the lowest, either because they were the most ruined or because they just hadn't been built as high, but the more distant ones rose several storeys into the air. More dead trees, just like the one next to the bonfire, also rose out of the ruins.

I started towards the closest wall and passed through an archway. On the other side, the ground was just as grassy, and I found one of those dead trees, so I kept walking on in hopes of finding the interior of whatever structure had once been here. Passing through another arch, I found it.

I now stood in the middle of some kind of flooded square hall. The roof was gone, as was the wall to my left, but above me were the remains of a higher floor, including a walkway or balcony that circled the upper levels of the room. I took a closer look at the walls, and found them inscribed with murals of winged and horned ponies, the alicorns of legend. Two in particular, which I recognised as the goddesses Celestia and Luna, were depicted striking down a bizarre-looking chimera. Was this some kind of church? A place of worship for the Four?

There was a screeching noise somewhere above me, and sound of giant wings beating with it. I put my hooves on my head and cowered, and the great phoenix swooped low over the ruined hall. It fluttered over and landed on the balcony of the upper level, scratching the ancient brickwork as it gripped on with its talons. The bird spread its fiery wings and turned its full attention onto me.

Since it didn't seem to wish me harm, I uncurled and stood tall. I took a moment to stop myself from trembling. Then I ran my tongue across my now dry lips, and tried to think of something to open with.

"So... thanks for not eating me," I said.

The phoenix screeched once more, folded its wings, and cocked its head.

"...I gather you must've brought me here for a reason... This is Equestria, right?"

It didn't respond, instead cocking its head the other way and giving me a blank look. I wondered if I was crazy for trying to talk to a bird. Phoenixes were supposed to be pretty smart, so I had no doubt that it could understand me, but it wasn't like we could actually communicate. I didn't speak Phoenix, and this thing didn't have the means to teach me.

"Well, look, thanks for rescuing me from the Asylum and all... if that's what you were trying to do... but I can't really stay here. I need to get home. You understand? Home. In the Griffish Isles. I don't suppose... you can take me back there?"

The phoenix lost interest in me, and started preening itself. I sighed.

"Oh well. Thanks anyway."

Not wanting to wade through the flooded hall, I went back the way I came and out into the grassy, open area. I looked back over my shoulder and watched the phoenix rise out of the church hall, flapping its way up to the higher levels of the ruins. It came to rest near what looked like a giant nest. I raised an eyebrow. Now I was even more confused than before. If the phoenix had its nest here, then what had it been doing at the Changeling Asylum? And why had it attacked the Inquisition but not me? 

I shook my head.

"Crazy damn bird..." I muttered under my breath.

What was I to do now? Sir Black Iron had given me some advice in the dream, hadn't he? I was now struggling to remember it. From the Darkwraith's appearance onwards, my sleep had been far more lucid than it normally was, but my memories of it were still slipping away from me. I trotted over to a particularly crumbled section of wall and looked over it towards the bonfire pit, in hopes of solidifying the memory in mind.

Sir Iron had told me a few things. I ran through the major points of his advice. Sleep by the bonfires to avoid the Darkwraiths. Be wary of demons in the north and changelings in the south. Don't ever antagonise a dragon. And... yes, now I remembered the important bit. Get armour, get a weapon, and then get good.

Well, all things considered, it wasn't the most daunting task. Fighting with a sword or a spear was just another skill, like harvesting apples, or playing the lute. I could learn, given enough time, couldn't I? How hard could it be? After all, I hadn't been doing too badly against the Asylum demon before it...

No. I wasn't thinking about that right now. Maybe I wouldn't ever think about it again. When my father died, the grief had driven my grandfather hollow, and even as young as I was at the time, I always remembered how empty his eyes had been on the day we found him. It was the same grief that we had all felt at the time, the same grief that Mr. Quiver was now living with, and would probably carry with him for the rest of his life. That couldn't be me. I was not grieving for Notch.

With a shake of my head, I forced myself back into the moment.

And that's when I heard the voices.

"...Explain to them such nuances..."

"...Sure won't... difference..."

I followed the voices, going over towards a different archway, much larger than the others. To my surprise, this one led into another hall with its roof and all its walls intact, the darkness inside kept at bay by burning torches. Cautiously, I poked my head around the corner to look inside. At the end, two ponies stood by some pots.

One was a white unicorn mare, her whole body except for her face obscured by her white and gold robes. The other was a red stallion with a blond mane trimmed in a bowl cut. His loose-fitting barding and heavily padded shoulders made him appear much larger than he was, but his armour left his legs exposed, so I could see that he was actually quite skinny underneath it all. He was in the middle of saying something when I looked in, but both he and the mare stopped talking and turned my way after a few seconds.

I pulled back out of sight, taking a sharp breath. They'd seen me.

"Hello?" the stallion called.

Well, it was no use now. They knew I was here. All I could do was hope that they didn't feel inclined to have me dissolved, or whatever other horrific things they did to undead in this country. I gradually inched out of cover, and found the two still standing where they were, waiting in silence. Steeling myself, and taking care to cover my darksign with my tail, I walked over to greet them.

"Um, hello!" I said, trying to sound casual. "I'm, uh... a little lost, I guess? I don't suppose you two could help me at all?"

Even in the low light, I noticed the mare's eyes flick briefly to my flank. Despite my attempt to disguise it, she must've seen the darksign anyway, as a sympathetic grimace crept over her features. At least it wasn't the look of loathing that I'd feared seeing. The red stallion had clearly also noticed, but he remained dispassionate.

"Lost, are you?" he said, speaking in a soft but pronounced tone. "Most unfortunate. But I believe we may be able to help you. What do you need?"

Seeing their reactions, I relaxed my tail and looked around the hall, wondering where to begin.

"Right, well... Okay. I suppose I should start by asking where I am now?"

The corner of the stallion's mouth twitched.

"You stand now in the ruins of the Shrine of Sunlight, one of the first churches built in honour of Celestia, who is called the Lord of Sunlight."

That got a slight head-tilt from me.

"Lord? In my homeland, the Church always said that Celestia was a princess. We're not talking about different sun gods here, are we?"

The mare chuckled. The stallion smiled as well.

"Ah, well, she is both, really," he said. "To be sure, the Four were all once princesses of Equestria, but Celestia in particular was also described as a lord in the inscriptions found in the Shrine. The term was used in a gender-neutral sense, we believe. Some in the faith argue about the canonicity of the Shrine's murals, but in Shorebreak, the Way of White believes that the Sisters did have special significance, above even Princess Twilight and Princess Cadance, and that Celestia was ruler of the gods."

"Uh... huh..."

I resisted rolling my eyes. Normally, I couldn't have cared less about what the Way of White considered a canonical scripture, but I had been the one to ask, and it was pretty evident that these two were deeply religious. Now that I had a closer look at them, I could see that the mare was wearing a metal sun symbol around her neck, and the stallion had a red and blue kite shield on his back that sported a similar emblem.

"Out of curiosity, you wouldn't happen to be a Cleric-Knight, would you?" I asked the stallion.

"What gave it away?" he said, smiling and holding out a hoof. "Sir Penance of Shorebreak."

I took his hoof and shook it.

"Firelink Soul of Brittlesworth."

Sir Penance gestured to the mare as we broke contact. "And this is Sister Pilgrimage, also of Shorebreak."

Pilgrimage did not offer a hoof, so I instead gave her a slight bow, which she seemed amused by.

"So what are a Cleric-Knight and a Sister of Solace doing here? This shrine doesn't look like it's still open for worship."

"We are waiting for some new arrivals," said Sir Penance, speaking now with a conspiratorial whisper. "A pair of minotaurs are coming here from the east to meet us. The four of us are to go south to join up with a warband of Chaos Paladins. They're planning another crusade into the Everfree Forest to fight King Aspen's scourge."

"I... Hmm." I cleared my throat. "I beg you pardon, but... what's a Chaos Paladin, and who's King Aspen?"

"The Chaos Paladins are followers of Discord." For the first time, it was Sister Pilgrimage who answered me, speaking with an earnest sweetness to her voice. "They believe in freedom above all else, so they choose their own battles and fight for any cause that they feel like fighting for. Some fight demons, some fight Darkwraiths, and some fight random ponies. But this warband we're joining fights the forces of Order, as they believe their father would have wanted, and King Aspen and the deerfolk are followers of the God of Order. We are to join them in their crusade."

I tried to articulate a response to that, but I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't know much about the Way of White to begin with, besides the basic stuff that everybody knew, and I knew even less about Discord.

"So... are the Chaos Paladins a part of the Way of White or... what?"

Pilgrimage gave a modest laugh, as ladylike as could be.

"No, no," said Sir Penance, shaking his head. "They're just... temporary allies. Or certain factions within them are, at least. The Way of White stands for Harmony, the balance between Order and Chaos. We must keep the peace and balance the sides. Some of the Chaos Paladins have shown willingness to work in harmony with us, just as Discord once worked with the Four in ancient times. Aspen and the forces of Order, however, have not. And so they must be pacified."

I looked around the ruined hall and frowned.

"You know, with all these demons, hollows, and feral changelings everywhere, it seems to me like Chaos is the side that's winning. Are you sure it's a good idea to be going off to crusade against Order right now?"

"Trust me, child," said Sir Penance, "a world of nothing but feral changelings and hollows would be very orderly indeed. Chaos comes with life. It makes noise. When all is dead and still and forever unchanging, it is Order that has won. Rest assured the Church has considered the implications of supporting the Chaos Paladins on this, and that the decision was not made lightly."

In all this talk of religion and crusades, I'd almost forgotten my original purpose in talking to the two. But as I tried to make sense of their words, it came back to me.

"...Anyway, all that aside... directions?"

"Oh, yes. Quite. Well, where is it you want to go?"

"I need to cross the Celestial Sea and reach the Griffish Isles. Is there anywhere I can find a ship heading that way? Or a pegasus sky chariot? Anything?"

Sir Penance and Pilgrimage gave each other furtive looks. Pilgrimage now wore the same grimace that she'd had after first noticing my darksign, while Sir Penance pursed his lips and looked at the ground, furrowing his brow in thought.

"None of the remaining east coast cities would let an undead like yourself within their borders, as far as I know, so ships are out. There is merit in the sky chariot idea, but I don't know where you'd find one, or a pegasus willing to fly it that distance... I'm sure you can find one somewhere in one of these inland towns, but I wouldn't know where. You'd be better off asking a local about that."

"Well, where might I find a local?" I asked.

Sir Penance idly tapped a hoof on the ground.

"The closest inhabited settlement is Sweet Apple Acres, due south of here. It's past the ruins of Ponyville. That's where we're meeting the rest of the warband later. I'd start there."

"Well, that sounds excellent," I said. "May I accompany you and these Chaos Paladins there?"

"If you wish. They should be arriving sometime in the next few hours. Though I must ask first... you appear to be lacking in proper equipment. Are you much of a fighter, sir?"

I looked down at the broken wooden roundshield, still attached to my leg. It was so dinky that I'd barely noticed I still had it.

"I can fight if need be, but I am no warrior," I answered, drawing my eyes away from the bloody shield. "Is this a problem?"

"For you, it may be." Sir Penance's frown gave me an impression of deep concern. "Understand, the ruins of Ponyville are infested with hollows. There are safe places, but if you cannot fight, it is likely that you will be killed, even with our protection. And if that does happen, we shall not wait for you to revive. We will leave you where your body falls."

I blinked. "But...if you do that, I'll be alone in the middle of hostile territory."

"If we carry your corpse along with us as an act of charity, you may spring back to life as a hollow in the heat of a battle and stab one of us in the back. We do not know you, Firelink, so we have no way of knowing how close you are to hollowing. We cannot risk our own lives for your sake. We each have only one."

"So you'll leave me for dead surrounded by hollows just on the off-chance?"

I looked to both of them. Sister Pilgrimage averted her gaze, but Sir Penance was not afraid to look me in the eye. He gave a grave nod, and I sighed.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I doubt you shall have too much trouble. We will kill any hollows in our way and clear a path through Ponyville.  If you do revive with your faculties still intact, then you merely need to follow the trail of corpses."

"Won't the hollows you kill revive just like me?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't think it a problem," said Sir Penance, almost casually. "How many deaths have you suffered, dear boy?"

"Uh... two."

"You're fine, then. Revival time near-enough doubles with each subsequent death, dependent on damage sustained. Third deaths last forty-five minutes, assuming a basic stab wound, but most of these wretches in Ponyville have been killed so many times that they'll be down for weeks, at least."

"O-Oh. Okay."

I actually did not know that about undead. I knew that more deaths meant it took longer to revive, but I didn't know that the time increase was so exact. This was useful information. As long as I kept track of how many times I died, I could calculate how long would pass between deaths. I now worked out that I'd probably spent about half an hour total being dead at the Asylum, so I hadn't lost much time from that... though I didn't know how long I'd been asleep for.

I stared at the floor as I tried to work out a timeline in my head.

"So... unrelated question," I said. "What time is it?"

Sir Penance looked to Sister Pilgrimage, who lifted the sleeve of her robes to glance at a watch.

"Quarter past nine," she answered.

Quarter past nine? In the morning? That couldn't be right; I'd arrived at the Asylum at six. There was no way that my entire adventure there and journey here had only taken a little over three hours, especially if I'd spent half an hour being dead and yet more time asleep. Unless she had meant meant nine in the evening, and it had actually taken somewhere in the realms of fifteen hours? But then, that seemed like too long.

"Um... Sorry, AM or PM?"

"AM," said Sir Penance. "Rising day."

Well, if it was still morning on a rising day, then either I'd slept for three days straight, or Equestrian clocks were a few hours behind Griffish ones. All things considered, the latter seemed more likely to me. At least my waking still roughly coincided with the beginning of the day, despite my multiple deaths and apparently crossing into a different time zone. Small mercies, I supposed.

"...Right," I said. "Thank you. Lost track of time for a bit there."

"Happens to the best of us," said Sir Penance with a small smile. "So, do you still intend to accompany us to Ponyville?"

I was still lost in thought for the moment, so it took me longer than usual to respond.

"...Oh! Yes, of course. I accept the terms."

"Splendid. If you wish, we can seal our agreement by making a covenant with the gods?"

"Thank you, but no need," I replied, turning to go. "I'm going to look around the Shrine a little more. See if I can find some better gear for the Ponyville trip."

Sir Penance raised an eyebrow.

"I would warn you against desecrating the graveyard behind this site. I don't begrudge you the occasional heresy if you really must pillage from the dead, since you are one of them, but please restrict such barbarism to the unburied and the hollowed. The graveyard is a sacred place. Don't disturb what little peace still remains."

I got the feeling that I had offended him by snubbing his offer. Perhaps making a covenant was a bigger deal than I'd thought. Regardless of my feelings on the Way of White or Sir Penance, I resolved to make up for my faux pas by playing along in future. Whether I was a believer or not, if it was just considered common courtesy here, then it did me no harm to indulge them, and no favours to spurn them.

I nodded to them both. "Very well. I promise it shall be untouched."

Sir Penance eased up, and Pilgrimage smiled again.

"I'll be back soon," I said, waving goodbye as I trotted out of the hall. "Vereor nox!"

"Praise the sun," they both replied in unison.

As I left the hall and emerged into the rising day sun, now out of the way of Sir Penance and Pilgrimage, I let myself have that eye-roll that I had suppressed earlier. Nothing like the Way of White to leave a pony confused and uncomfortable.





A few minutes after my first meeting with Sir Penance and Sister Pilgrimage, I was already trying to find a way to the upper levels of the ruins. In the flooded hall, I stood at the water's edge, and stared up at the balcony overlooking it, particularly the place where the phoenix had landed before. Was there still any way up there, or had the stairs used to reach it already crumbled away? If I'd still had my grappling hook, the question would've been irrelevant, but after my murder and robbery by Patches, I was now much less vertically mobile.

As I pondered, my thoughts strayed back to my meeting with the White followers, since at least that way, I wasn't thinking about Notch again. Getting to Sweet Apple Acres was imperative if I wanted to return home, and that required a trip through Ponyville, but I did not like the thought of going accompanied by fanatics. I did not have anything against the Way of White per se; almost everypony followed it to some degree, including most of my family. But the Church's Cleric-Knights were a whole other story.

In my lifetime, I'd heard terms like "crusade" and "holy war" a lot, both from the stories that the old-timers would tell, and from gossip about events in distant lands. Whenever the Cleric-Knights of the Way of White got it in their heads that the Four were willing them to go out purge evil, all one could do was hope that they picked a deserving target.

In my homeland, they were mostly demon-hunters, and very occasionally were also called upon to put down hollows or feral changelings. But in other kingdoms, they sometimes went way overboard, hunting down all undead, or all changelings, or sometimes just those that they considered heretics, depending on how much power and freedom the kingdom granted them. For example, New Griffonstone had given the Cleric-Knights more or less free rein to deal with the hollow problem however they saw fit, and they had ended up founding the Inquisition as a result.

Sir Penance and Sister Pilgrimage didn't seem that bad; they were both amiable enough. But nothing they'd said about the deer had made it sound like they deserved to die, while everything they'd said about these so-called "Chaos Paladins" made them sound ominous, to say the least. Maybe it was just my prejudices at work, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I would one day regret meeting Sir Penance and his minotaur friends.

I waded through the water and out through the destroyed wall. On the other side was open air, as I emerged onto another cliff overlooking the forest. The floor was still there, and there were still foundations close to the cliff's edge. So this had once been another room...

Looking to my left, I spotted some crumbling stone stairs, so I climbed them and emerged onto the balcony overlooking the flooded hall. That was easier than I'd expected. For some reason, the walls and floors on the balcony's level were mossy and grimy, unlike the lower level, where they were merely faded with age. I briefly wondered why the lower levels weren't similarly filthy and overgrown. Maybe some pilgrim had come by and cleaned it off to preserve the murals? Sir Penance had made it sound like the Shorebreak branch of the Church cared about this place, at least.

I circled the room and came to a crumbled piece of wall on the opposite side of the hall. It was low enough that I was able to lift myself up over it, depositing myself on the roof of another building. I was now standing atop the hall where I had met Sir Penance and Sister Pilgrimage. The brick beneath my hooves felt solid, so I sauntered over to the edge and stared out at the mountain city again.

What was that place? It was beautiful, but it was also perplexing. The way it was built into the mountainside was like a work of art, but it couldn't have been practical to build a city there. Had it been built by magic, perhaps in some distant age when magic had been a much stronger force in the world? People had always said that Equestria at its peak was a very advanced civilization, far eclipsing our own. Looking at that city, I believed it.

I turned around and headed back across the roof, but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the knight slumped against the wall of the other hall. I'd passed right by them while climbing over and hadn't even noticed. They didn't react to me, not even looking my way. I suspected that this armoured pony was actually a corpse, but just in case, I crept over and waved a hoof in front of them before using my magic to lift their visor. I gasped and stepped back when it revealed a horned skull underneath, with its jaw hanging limply open, and its eye sockets staring out at nothing.

The skeleton slumped even further, now lying on its side. I recovered quickly from my shock, but remained still for a while, staring at the body.

The armour it wore covered almost everything, but the steel appeared old, scratched, and damaged, particularly on the lone left pauldron. Despite its age, however, it still looked very fancy. The leggings and helmet were bare steel, but the rest of the body was covered by a gold-trimmed blue surcoat, and a different, tougher, brown material covered the neck. The flank and chest areas were also adorned by heraldry of a star-tipped rod imposed over a crescent shape, which was stitched carefully into the fabric with gold thread. It was a little torn in places, but it was all surprisingly clean. I had to wonder how it had survived relatively unscathed while the armour's occupant had rotted away to nothing.

Next to where the skeleton had been sitting, I found a shield, a sword in a scabbard, and a pair of old saddlebags. I ignored the former for now and picked up the latter. They were decorated by the same starry crest as the armour, except that it was blue on the saddlebags, while on the armour it was gold.

I opened them up and emptied their contents onto the roof. First, there were a few obvious travelling supplies, such as a pair of binoculars, a map, and a compass. Made sense. There was a bag of Equestrian coins, all still gold and shiny after however many years they'd been here. I found a quill and inkpot, some loose paper, and a few empty envelopes. There was even a little brown book. I briefly flipped through the first few pages, but I didn't recognise the language, so it was pointless trying to read it. Much like the surcoat of the armour, I had to wonder how all the paper contents of the bags were in such good condition.

"Hmm," I said. "Interesting."

I picked up the knight's helmet to inspect it. It seemed designed to cover the whole head, but unlike the cylindrical helmet that Sir Black Iron had worn, it was fairly round and had a liftable visor, which protruded slightly from the helmet to make room for a pony's muzzle. I lifted the visor and tried to put it on. To my surprise, it fit my head perfectly, even having room for my horn. Lowering the visor, I also found that it didn't obscure my sight as much as I'd feared. To be sure, my peripheral vision was impaired, but I could see enough of what was in front of me through the helmet's slit.

My bigger concern was the weight. The helmet was fine, but a whole suit of armour built like this was going to be heavy. I wondered if I'd even be able to move in a full set of it. Equine plate armour was originally designed by earth ponies, so unicorn knights were supposed to be very fit to keep up in it. I was no slouch, but I wasn't exactly an athlete, either.

Lifting the visor again, I looked back down at the skeletal knight and sighed.

"Well, only one way to find out..." I muttered. "Sorry about this, friend."

I lifted the body with my magic and began to remove the armour one piece at a time. It was grim work, but I reminded myself that Sir Iron and Sir Penance had both conceded the necessity of the act for me. It hadn't done this poor soul any good, but maybe this armour could at least save my life. Finally, once it was all off, I laid the skeleton down, gently propping them up against the wall where they'd been before.

I removed my wooden roundshield and began trying on the rest of the armour. The suit was indeed heavy, but not as heavy as I'd been expecting. I took a few stumbling steps, but adjusted soon enough. I could move just fine. I sure wouldn't be doing any long-distance running, and even walking would probably exhaust me after a matter of hours, but I still had free movement. And it wasn't like I couldn't ever take it off again to rest.

"Okay. Armour, check. Now, weapons..."

Looking over to the skeleton again, I went back to pick up the shield. It was a steel kite shield with a rounded top, and much like the armour, it sported a gold rendition of the starry crest over a blue background. I wondered what it was meant to represent. Obviously, it had been somepony's cutie mark at some point, but I couldn't tell if it was the cutie mark of this nameless knight, or if it was the mark of somepony else that they'd fought for. At the very least, the elaborate design of the armour suggested that the knight had been a pony of either great wealth or great prestige.

With a sigh, I hooked the shield onto my side and strapped on the scabbard. I removed the sword from it to see what kind of blade I was dealing with. It was a mouth-grip broadsword, fairly big and heavy, but like the armour itself, manageable in the short term. Still looked sharp, too. I sheathed it again, hoping I wouldn't have much cause to use it in the near future. 

"...Check."

After a moment's hesitation, I also put all the loose items back in the saddle-bags, and put those on as well. Once I was done, I spent a moment in silence, standing there before the dead knight. Finally, with a bite of my lip, I gave a half-hearted bow.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

I didn't stop any longer, instead climbing back over the crumbling wall. I didn't feel like spending any longer on the roof.





I came back to the hall where Sir Penance and Sister Pilgrimage were waiting half an hour later. I'd briefly explored the graveyard in the intervening time, but it had turned out to be uneventful. It had been interesting to see all the ancient cutie marks on the headstones, but I couldn't read the writing on them, as it was in the same strange language as the journal and letters I'd found, so none of it really meant anything to me. I'd toyed around with the idea of digging a new grave for the knight whose armour I had taken, but I'd figured that I wouldn't have enough time before the minotaurs arrived, so I went back instead.

The minotaurs in question were already there when I returned. Sir Penance and Sister Pilgrimage looked quite surprised by my appearance, but my visor was lifted, so they recognised that it was me. Sir Penance gave a suspicious frown as I approached, my new armour rattling and echoing off the stone with every step. I gave him a half-smile and a shrug.

"It wasn't taken from a grave, I promise."

He seemed to take my word for it, clearing his throat and turning to the minotaurs, who so far had taken no notice of me, and were busy speaking to each other in their own tongue. They stopped and looked to Sir Penance, and he gestured to me.

"The undead I mentioned."

The minotaurs both stared at me. The bigger of the two narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, while the smaller one just blinked, dumbly. They looked almost identical, both being huge, bipedal bulls with blue-grey fur, yellow eyes, and nose rings. They even both wore the same patchwork armour, cobbled together from bits of scrap metal and what appeared to be snakeskin leather. I could only tell them apart by their size and their weapons; the bigger one carried a mace, while the smaller instead had a battleaxe.

"Firelink, this is Paladin Great Victory..." said Sir Penance, indicating the big one first, "...and Paladin Small Nicety."

I nodded in response, making Victory snort. "Pleasure to meet you both."

Nicety mumbled something, but I couldn't tell what. He wasn't speaking that foreign language anymore, but his words were still indistinguishable.

"Um... Paladin Small Nicety is not the most confident speaker," said Sir Penance. "You must forgive him."

"Of course."

Victory came closer, and I suddenly had flashbacks of the Asylum demon as I craned my neck upwards to meet this looming giant's gaze. Somehow I kept my composure, but I still took an instinctive step backwards.

"You, undead pony." He had a voice like thunder; I shrunk away. "Penance says you want to come with us?"

"U-Uh... Yes. Just to Sweet Apple Acres."

"He says you cannot fight. Is this true?"

"I can fight," I said, defensively. "I'm just not a warrior."

"No..." Victory leaned in closer, his glare only becoming more intense. "You look like a knight, not a warrior."

My eyes flicked briefly to Sir Penance, and then back to the paladin.

"...Is there a difference?"

The minotaur's mask of indifference broke into a wide, maniacal grin. He slammed his hand down on my shoulder (or rather, my pauldron) and threw his head back, giving a long and hearty laugh. His companion joined him, though Small Nicety's laugh was nowhere near as bellowing as the other paladin's. Victory doubled over and held his chest as he let go of me. My eyes still flickering between them and the White followers, I began to join in with some nervous laughter of my own.

"You're funny, pony!" Victory slapped my shoulder again and laughed some more. "'Is there a difference?' Haha!"

I didn't get it.

"Come now, Pilgrimage!" he said, turning to the White followers. "Time to go!"

I blinked. "Now? We're going now?"

The Chaos Paladins started walking without another word, though Victory continued chuckling to himself. Sir Penance shrugged and followed, while Sister Pilgrimage just proceeded ahead with a smile. I hung back a little, and walked alongside Sir Penance as we emerged from the ruins.

"What was that about?" I whispered.

"Chaos Paladins delight in the unpredictable and the nonsensical," he said. "It doesn't matter to them whether it comes from themselves or others. Perhaps what you said was truly unexpected and amusing to them, or perhaps they just laughed to confuse you. Either is possible. Do not look too deeply into anything that they say or do. Many of them are quite mad, anyway."

"Are these two mad?"

"I couldn't say. They are friends of Sister Pilgrimage, not of myself."

We passed the bonfire pit, and Sister Pilgrimage led the minotaurs down a small stairway behind the stone arches that I hadn't noticed before. As we followed down after her, descending into the forest, I looked back at the bonfire by the dead tree. A thought occurred to me just then, something which hadn't even crossed my mind until that moment.

"Hey, Sir Penance? Have you ever been to something called the Fire-Keeper's Dream?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Just trying to confirm to myself that what I experienced was real. I've never been to Equestria before today. Last night, I think I was attacked by a Darkwraith, but then... then I ended up in the Dream. First time either has ever happened to me. Is that really what it's normally like here?"

"Oh, yes." Sir Penance nodded grimly. "It's a sad fact of life in Equestria. If you wish for a good night's rest, you must stay by a bonfire. Sleeping in the wilderness is foolhardy for even the bravest of warriors."

We reached the forest floor. The ambient noises of the forest and the snapping of sticks as they were trod underhoof joined the clinking and rattling of my armour. The sunlight was spotty, filtered through the treetops overhead, and the earthy smell of nature filled my nostrils. Despite all that I had been through, I smiled.

"Something amusing?" asked Sir Penance.

"Oh, no. I was just admiring the forest. It's... nice."

Sir Penance joined me with a smile of his own.

"It is, isn't it? It's called White Tail Woods. Or, I think it is, at least. It's mostly unnamed on maps."

"You've seen a lot of maps, have you?"

"A few. Adventuring Cleric-Knights are expected to know the landscape."

"So, do you know what that city is?"

"City?" Sir Penance stared blankly at me for a second, before realisation dawned. "Oh! You mean Canterlot?"

"If Canterlot is the white and gold city up on the mountain, then yes."

"Yes, that is Canterlot City, the old capital of Equestria. The mountain is Mount Canterlot. And the area west of the mountain, including this part of White Tail, is called the Canterlot Hills, or the Unicorn Range, depending on the map."

"I see. Is Canterlot still inhabited?"

"Difficult question. Nopony truly knows."

I furrowed my brow.

"How come?"

"The way there is treacherous, and none survive the journey. Trust me, it's not worth going there to find out. The pathway up the mountain is littered with corpses and hollows."

I tried to shrug, despite my very real disappointment, but it was more effort than it was worth in the armour. So instead I just nodded and went quiet.

It was going to be a long trip.





Within a few hours of our trek through the forest, I had been drawn into a conversation with the minotaurs and Pilgrimage. Away from Sir Penance, Pilgrimage was much more willing to speak up, and she laughed along with the Chaos Paladins whenever they randomly decided that something I said was hilarious. Small Nicety never stopped mumbling, but the others seemed to have no trouble understanding him. 

I didn't say much, except answering a few simple questions when they took interest in me, but they talked a lot about themselves. I was able to gather a few things from context through their chatter, such as that the minotaurs were brothers, and that Pilgrimage had met them many years ago when their warband visited Shorebreak for some reason.

I took the opportunity to ask a few basic questions of my own, but sometimes, I got more than I bargained for, and Victory would go into an off-topic lecture about things I didn't really understand or care about. The minotaur was eager to talk about a lot of things, but honestly, I was only really interested in the Chaos Paladins themselves. As an organisation, they were a definite curiosity. Luckily enough, the subject did come up frequently with the right prodding.

"...And it is true that chaos is self-destructive, so disagreement and strife is encouraged in the Chaos Paladins. We are no united force. We have no hierarchy. There is only the cause of chaos, and we must interpret that for ourselves. No two paladins fully agree on who the true enemy is."

As Victory finished his speech, we arrived in a small clearing in the forest. A fallen log provided a convenient place to sit and rest, which Nicety, Pilgrimage, and I did. Sir Penance wandered to the edge of the clearing and into the forest, while Victory remained standing and crossed his arms.

"Well, who do you believe is the true enemy?" I asked, removing my helmet to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Victory snarled. "The accursed Darkwraiths! The Dreamscape should not be a wretched black abyss, as it is now in this age of nightmares! It should be full of colour and life! It is one of the Realms of Chaos by right, and we must take it back from them!"

"Uh-huh... so... if you think the Darkwraiths are your enemy, what are you going off to kill the deer for?"

Small Nicety mumbled something.

"Shut up!" Victory roared, turning on his brother.

There was more mumbling, and Victory took a deep breath. He looked back to me.

"My brother would rather I not tell an outsider, but he forgets that I do not care about his opinion. We seek to destroy King Aspen and his deer for many reasons, but for us, the true purpose is the treasure that lies in Thicket. The deer have many trinkets hoarded away in their stronghold, but what Aspen has that we want is a collection of red eye orbs."

I raised an eyebrow.

"They are magical items," Victory continued, "which are able to physically transport someone between the Dreamscape and the material world. The Darkwraiths use them to terrorise ponies in two worlds at once and escape when they know they're beaten. I and many other Chaos Paladins want to use them to invade the Dreamscape and destroy those foul creatures."

"Uh... wow. My hat's off to you. I hope you succeed."

In destroying the Darkwraiths, anyway. I still wasn't sure about the deer.

I looked over to Pilgrimage. "So, I'm guessing that the Way of White also wants in on this Darkwraith thing?"

She smiled and nodded. "That is correct. Sir Penance and a number of other Cleric-Knights will help the warband in taking Thicket, and will then lead the crusade into the Dreamscape. We expect it to be a long campaign, but with our champions behind it, we have faith that we will succeed."

"Truly, there is no greater glory than slaughtering servants of the Dark," Victory said with a laugh.

"So who are these champions then? You lot?"

Again, Small Nicety mumbled something I couldn't understand, while Pilgrimage chuckled to herself.

"Well, no, we're just participants," she said.

"The champion of the Chaos Paladins is the Legend," said Victory. "A personal hero of my brother and I. His mastery of chaos magic and his skill with a greatsword are unmatched."

Pilgrimage nodded. "And for us, we have—"

"Sir Daybright," said Sir Penance, emerging from the trees and walking over to us. "Wielder of Grant and Sanctus, leader of the Order of the Cleric-Knights of Celestia, and undefeated in single combat. Somewhat of a hero himself."

When Sir Penance rejoined the group, he gave us all a grave look. We all paused, waiting for him to continue the conversation, but instead, he changed subjects.

"We have a problem," he said in a hushed tone.

I sat up. Nicety and Pilgrimage leaned in.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"At the edges of clearing, out in the forest. We've got ferals."

My heart began thudding. I gulped. Even Paladin Victory looked far more serious than before.

"How many?" he asked, as quiet as I'd ever heard him.

"Three that I can see, but that means the actual number is likely closer to ten."

I forced myself to give a slight chuckle. "Th-That's not so bad, right? If we each kill two of them..."

Pilgrimage gave me a look that I couldn't decipher. It seemed... expectant, somehow. Then I remembered that the Sisters of Solace were pacifists by oath, and I mentally slapped myself.

I was about to say something, but then Sir Penance gasped at something he saw behind me. Nicety looked back over his shoulder and then leapt away from the log, while Victory grabbed his mace and backed up. All this happened in a matter of seconds, and I had no time to process what was happening before something rammed into me from behind.

I hit the ground, face-down in the dirt, with the weight of two hooves pressing down on the back of my armour. My helmet rolled away from me and my shield fell off. I tried to look back at my attacker, but as soon as my head was turned, the feral changeling leaned down and sunk its fangs into my exposed neck. I screamed.

More ferals came out of the forest, driving the Chaos Paladins and the White followers back into the centre of the clearing. Pilgrimage hid behind the others as they drew weapons and engaged the changelings. I was getting no help, so I grabbed my enemy by the head with my armoured hooves and tried to pull it away. However, its teeth were sunk deep into my flesh, and trying to force it off nearly made me tear my own throat out. All throughout, I kept screaming loudly.

I started simply punching the changeling in the face, trying to make it let go on its own, but I was already feeling woozy, and every passing second I grew more frightened. Finally, I remembered my broadsword, and used my magic to lift it out of its scabbard and raise it above us both. I intended to bring it down and decapitate the changeling, but as soon as my horn lit up, it noticed. It let go of my neck, and before I could even try to move away, it instead bit my horn, renewing my screaming and causing me to drop the sword before I could strike.

My sword came down, just not with force. It grazed the changeling's neck and slid off onto the grass, making the changeling hiss and finally back off from me. A small amount of green bled from its neck, which it held with a hoof, but my own was now a river of red, my vision was getting blurry, and I was more terrified than I had ever been in any of my lives. I knew what this was. This was changeling venom, an emotion-amplifying toxin. And right now, it was turning my already extreme fear of death into something maddening.

I rolled over onto my stomach and tried to crawl back onto all fours. The changeling got ready to attack again, but was then suddenly splattered into chunks of black chitin and green fluid, some of which hit me in globs. Paladin Small Nicety removed his axe from the ruin that had once been a changeling. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I had no idea what the gesture meant, nor did I really care at that moment, because I was delirious and covered in dead changeling.

"No...! Noooo...!" I moaned, writhing in the grass as I tried to scrape the changeling gore off myself. "Notch! Nooooootch!"

I kept trying to get up, but I kept collapsing. I couldn't lift my hooves, either because of the blood loss, or because of the changeling venom. But there was no doubt which of the two was causing the hallucinations. The Asylum demon was crushing Notch into paste again right before my eyes, and something must have overloaded my brain, because suddenly I was also having spasms, and my screams turned into choking and gurgling. Or maybe that was the hole in my neck?

I'm not sure how long it took me to die. My last moments were completely incoherent. Noise and colour and feeling all became random, and when it finally all began to fade, I welcomed the peaceful oblivion.





I woke up feeling like I was on fire. The first thing I did was open my eyes. The second thing I did was scream again. This time, at least, I was able to roll over in the grass and run my hooves over myself, trying in vain to locate the source of the pain and stop it. I couldn't, of course. This was phantom pain from the last thing my body was feeling before I died, in this case, changeling venom coursing through my veins. It was funny, really. The venom didn't hurt when it was actually in me, but now that it was presumably gone and no longer affecting my emotions, it was agonising.

Eventually, it faded on its own, and I lay face-down in the grass again. I stayed there for a few minutes, breathing heavily, before eventually trying to pick myself up. The pain had passed, so I was done crying and screaming. Now I was groaning instead, at the general misery of it all. I sat on my rump and blinked in the sunlight, disoriented by it now that I could finally see properly again.

I was still in the clearing. My companions were gone, but the forest floor was littered with changeling corpses in various states of dismemberment. There must have been at least fifteen. The paste that had once been my attacker was right where Nicety had left it. I instinctively flinched when a memory of Notch's death flickered across my thoughts. My sword, shield, and helmet all lay on the grass still, and my saddlebags were over by the log, having apparently fallen off in the fight. They hadn't robbed me, at least, but Sir Penance had apparently held true to his promise to abandon me if I died.

"Praise the sun," I grumbled to myself, going over to pick up my things. "Praise the bloody sun."

I shouldn't have been angry about it. I'd been warned that this would happen, and I had accepted the risk before coming on the trip. It didn't stop me from feeling betrayed anyway. But they had killed the changelings for me, at least, and as I discovered when I picked up my sword and sheathed it with my magic, they hadn't allowed the ferals to devour my soul, either. I took a deep breath and tried to let my anger go. They'd done nothing wrong by me. I had to remember that.

"Okay..." I said, putting my saddlebags back on. "Lesson learned. Don't ever let my guard down."

I put my helmet back on and lowered the visor. From now on, I decided, I wouldn't ever take it off unless I knew for a fact that it was safe. No more carelessness. If I was going to survive here, I needed to foster a healthy sense of paranoia.

"Right... Now... which way to Ponyville...?"

After a minute of uncertainty, trying to determine which way we'd come from, I finally picked a path and began walking in what I hoped was a southern direction. This time, there was no laughter, no conversation, and nobody to explain things to me. There was only the sounds of the forest, and the clinking and rattling of my armour.





"Hm? What have we here? You look awfully raggedy... Times are grim; the least you can do is look sharp. Don't you dare meet M'lady like that!"




> Chapter 3: Dying Gets Easier
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was sweating buckets when I finally emerged from White Tail Woods. I had vastly overestimated my stamina, and every step I took in the heavy knight's armour was like Trusty Patches tearing out my soul all over again. At the edge of the treeline, I collapsed onto the grass at the bottom of a small hill.

Why couldn't the Asylum demon have just eaten me and spared me this?

I pulled off my helmet and laid it down next to me. Despite my previous resolve to never, ever let my guard down again, I had gotten through the entire forest since then without being attacked by another band of changelings, so I was reasonably sure it was safe here. And besides, without all the conversation going on, maybe I'd hear this time if any attackers were coming.

While lying there on the grass, I stared up at the sky. Some birds sat in a nest above me, tweeting away without a care in the world. They seemed to pay me no mind, but I was entranced by their song. How much simpler would life be if I had been born a bird? Hell, what if I had just been born a pegasus? I wouldn't have to worry about any of Equestria's various horrors, for a start. Hollows and ferals usually have no magic and can't fly. I wouldn't have had to cover myself in metal and trek through a dangerous forest. I could've just flown over it.

My musings were cut short. Where before there was blue sky, suddenly my view was filled by bright orange flames. I shrieked and flipped over, scrambling for my helmet and crouching low, but before I could even put it on, the danger had passed. I looked up just in time to see the great phoenix from the Shrine of Sunlight disappearing over the crest of the hill.

I stood up to my full height, my eyes fixed on the hilltop ahead of me. The great phoenix had been flying in the direction of Ponyville.

"...Hmph."

Every single time that bird did anything, it just raised more questions. Nevertheless, there was definitely a lesson to be learned here. I hadn't heard the phoenix coming until it was already flying over me, and that bird was actually pretty loud. That was twice in a very short span of time that the universe had gently reminded me to never, ever relax. So okay. Point taken. Weld the helmet to my head and learn to live with the sweat. Got it.

Since it seemed that I was no safer here than I was anywhere else, I decided to wait a little longer before taking any kind of break. I pressed ahead, climbing the slight incline of the hill until I stood at the top. There, I finally had a clear view of Ponyville.

It was a perfectly ordinary-looking village for the most part, though significantly larger and less rustic than Brittlesworth. Like my home, most of the houses were wooden and had straw roofs, but these ones were built bigger and taller, and they were all painted in light colours, mostly whites and yellows. A few disparate examples of brick and tile buildings also dotted the town, especially around the edges, and I spotted more than a few unique building designs amongst it all. The tallest visible structure was a circular building in the middle of the town, topped with a small spire. It looked like a place of some importance.

There was another large mass of forest to the right of the town, much bigger than White Tail. Darker, too. A distant river ran into it. Following the river backwards, I noted that it ran around and through the town, and seemed to come from the direction of Mt. Canterlot, where...

"What."

On the opposite side of Ponyville from the forest, an enormous tree of blue and purple crystal had grown out of the ground. I couldn't quite process what I was seeing at first. Even with Mt. Canterlot looming behind it, the crystal tree was incredible in its size, easily dwarfing the structure in the middle of Ponyville several times over. It stood apart from the town, growing out from a small cluster of low hills, with only a few lone houses built closer to it. A road led out from the town to the tree's... front door.

That was the other thing that I couldn't quite comprehend at first. As well as being a giant blue and purple crystal tree, this thing also actually looked like it was inhabited. I almost wanted to say it was a castle. The upper levels of the tree had balconies, doors, and windows all over. Colourful lights hung down from the balconies like vines, and a purple flag with a familiar star emblem hung above the largest one. The tallest part of the tree, a tower with a pointed golden roof, supported a crystal rendition of that same symbol, which was almost half as big as the entire rest of the tree.

I stood there, agape, my eyes locked onto the crystal star. It was the Mark of Twilight. I might not have ever attended church, but I definitely recognised the symbol of the Goddess of Friendship and Knowledge when I saw it. Whatever that crystal tree place was, it was strongly associated with her. Perhaps it was some kind of Twilightian cathedral, built by the Way of White? Yet, if that were so, then why did Sir Penance and the other crusaders make no mention of this place, nor any plans to stop by on the way to Sweet Apple Acres?

I made my decision. No matter what, I was not going to brave the dangers of Ponyville without at least trying to see what was inside the tree first. Best case scenario, a friendly congregation of Twilightian scholars could immediately teleport me back home. Worst case, I could be dissolved in acid, but frankly, that was a risk I ran whenever I talked to anypony in this land.

Taking a deep breath, I descended from the hill, and made my way across the grassy plains towards the tree.





Chapter 3:
Dying Gets Easier





Well, that was pointless.

The doors were locked tight once I reached the castle, and circling around the entire tree revealed no other hidden entrances. With no visible dangers in the immediate area, I banged at the door for a solid ten minutes, and shouted up at the balconies all the way. I threw rocks at the windows, only for them to be vaporised by some kind of magical defences. Eventually, I just gave up. I can't begin to describe the disappointment, but in my heart, I knew that it was foolish to expect anything different. If the crystal castle had held any hope in the first place, then Sir Penance probably would've mentioned it.

While forlornly trudging along the southward path back towards the town, I observed Ponyville from a different angle. Distantly, the town looked perfectly ordinary. Up close, however, I could tell just how weathered and worn the buildings here were. The straw roofs were thinning out and collapsing, the paintwork was fading and flaking away, and the streets and gardens were all overgrown with weeds. It was clear that nopony had lived here for quite some time.

My armour's rattling and my hoofsteps were the only sounds apart from the wind. Otherwise, it was quiet as a tomb. The houses along the street all looked abandoned. A few of them had their doors missing or still open, and some had smashed windows as well. Most of them, however, were completely boarded up, and each boarded-up house had a large red cross painted on the wall next to the door. I didn't know what the crosses were there to indicate, but they reminded me of the stories of plague-ravaged Trottingham. They made my spine tingle to look at.

While walking along, observing these houses, I somehow missed what was right in front of me, and walked into another pony, who fell on the ground with a strained cry. I instinctively looked forward again and began apologising, only to stop short when I noticed who it was that I'd ran into.

The pony was ancient-looking, with a dull grey coat, and only a few frayed white hairs in place of a mane and tail. Its skin was sagging and wrinkled, and it hung off a gaunt, near-skeletal frame. The pony had wings, but they were almost unnoticeable, lacking any feathers as they did. And what drew my attention most of all was its flank, which showed no cutie mark whatsoever, but did display a very prominent darksign.

The hollow struggled back onto its hooves and staggered around to face me. Its eyes were unmistakably empty, nothing but a lifeless white. It opened its mouth and screeched at me, spittle flying, while it tried to flare the remnants of its wings. For a moment, I was paralysed by shock. That moment was all it needed, as it immediately lunged on top of me and knocked me to the ground, just as I had done to it.

I lay on my back on a cobblestone street as the hollow began pounding away at me with its bare hooves. For a moment, I struggled and tried to grab the hollow to make it stop, but then I realised that I couldn't feel any pain. It was punching my armour with everything it had, but the hollow was simply too weak to damage me through all that plate metal. With my helmet on this time, I was completely safe from this thing.

A chuckle began to rise from my throat, which quickly turned into a bellowing laughter. I shoved the hollow off with relative ease and stood up again.

"Come on, then!" I said to the hollow, as it also got up. "Let's see you try again!"

It shrieked at me, just like before, and charged towards me at a fairly decent speed. I side-stepped it and let it run past me.

"Haha!"

The hollow stopped and looked around, almost seeming confused, before turning to face me and charging again. Once more, I dodged to the side.

"Oh, look at that!"

Perhaps I was projecting emotion onto a being that didn't have it, hollows being less mentally developed than even the most primitive animals, but I could almost swear that this thing was getting frustrated with me. It hissed this time, in a manner reminiscent of the changeling ferals, and swung its hooves at me as it charged.

I side-stepped the hollow, and responded by throwing a punch of my own, striking it right in the head and knocking it to the ground. Leaning over, I waited for it to get up for another go, but it stayed down. Apparently I had knocked it unconscious.

I looked back at my sword, wondering whether it would be a good idea to execute it. After all, it wasn't really a living thing, even in the sense that normal undead are alive, and a proper kill would keep it down for much longer. Still, it didn't really seem necessary, and I wasn't eager to see any more gruesome sights after what I had already been through. I decided to leave the hollow for now and be on my way.

The moment I turned my back, it was up again. I knew this because as I was walking away, it lunged at me from behind, tackling me to the ground and resuming its assault. I rolled my eyes. I had yet another lesson to learn from this experience: spare no-one.

I rolled over, removing my clingy attacker, and climbed on top of it to pin down its limbs. The hollow struggled, shrieking and spitting at me still. With my magic, I drew my sword and positioned it over the hollow's neck. It didn't respond to the gesture at all, only continuing to flail violently beneath my hooves.

It's not a real pony, Firelink, I reminded myself. It's just a mindless hollow.

Even so, I still needed to close my eyes before I could bring myself to do it. With a quick motion, I cut the hollow's throat. Blood sprayed out and covered the front of my armour, but the hollow didn't have nearly as much blood as a living pony would have. The hollow went quiet and stopped moving as I opened my eyes. I climbed off of it and put my sword away. Then I took a deep breath.

That wasn't so bad.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation, that was for sure, but killing the hollow like that hadn't made me feel as terrible as I'd been expecting. It was superficially similar to killing a pony, but it really wasn't comparable. Hollows were hollows. Whoever that poor soul had once been, they were long gone now, and all that was left was a shell.

"Right then," I said with a sigh. "Where next?"





I came across a few more hollows in my journey through Ponyville, and just like the first, they all seemed to be harmless now that I was actually keeping my helmet on. Or maybe hollows really were just that much weaker than feral changelings? Either way, I had little difficulty with them.

As a matter of fact, I began to see the hollows as a great opportunity for practice. Once I had gotten over the initial discomfort of how similar they were to living ponies, I was soon having no trouble cleaving them apart with my broadsword. I began to learn some very important lessons about sword combat. For one thing, it was essential that I put as much telekinetic force behind each swing as I could possibly muster, otherwise I was unlikely to cut through bone, which could potentially make for a very messy decapitation. Even for as much of it as I'd seen, the gore still nauseated me slightly when it got excessive.

In a small side street, still in the residential area of the town, I came across a pair of hollows on the prowl, and had both of them charge at me. I swung horizontally at their necks as soon as they were in range, going for a double decapitation. To my dismay, I missed the furthest one and only grazed it, and it barrelled into me anyway, knocking me over. And this hollow didn't even fall down on top of me afterwards. If it'd actually been capable of hurting me, it would've been in a prime position to do so at that moment.

I stabbed it through the heart to quickly finish it before even getting up. Here was another lesson to learn. Facing multiple enemies in a real combat situation is dangerous, and I had to be careful to not overexert myself. I'd killed one hollow, but the other had still been able to get me. I needed to play more defensively when outnumbered, especially when being mobbed like that.

I looked to my side, at the shield attached to my armour. It occurred to me that I didn't really know how to use a shield this large. With the wooden roundshield, I could easily attach it to my foreleg and bring that up to block an attack, or else use telekinesis to lift it. This larger shield, however, I could pretty much only use with telekinesis, and I wasn't sure if that was the intended usage or not. Maybe it was meant to stay on my armour, and I was actually expected to turn in place to absorb blows? Did that make any sense?

Maybe this is just a shield for giants.

I emerged from the alley into a very different-looking area. I had now moved from run-down houses to run-down shops. But these were not like the shops in Brittlesworth or Woods' End. They were more like the shops in Port Cruelsea or Trottingham, with glass windows on the shopfront, and large, colourful signage above the store entrances. Yet again, I did not understand the language on the signs, but fortunately for me, most of them used pictures rather than words anyway.

Going up to the stores, I found that a few of them were boarded-up and marked with red crosses, just like the houses, but the ones with big glass windows had only boarded up the doors.

I cantered up to one of the quarantined buildings and peered in. It looked like some kind of small restaurant, but everything inside was a mess. Chairs and tables were upended, bottles, plates, and cutlery littered the floor, and the whole place was dark. It took me a moment to see the hollow inside, but its movement gave it away. It was at the back end of the restaurant, over by the counter, shambling about aimlessly and bumping into things.

Now it all clicked. A red cross on a building meant that somepony had trapped a hollow inside. Obviously, the undead curse had overrun this town at some point in the past, but it must have been a gradual process. The townsfolk didn't have the resources to completely destroy their hollows, or maybe they just didn't have the heart for it, so instead they sealed them away as a temporary solution. Not that it seemed to have done the rest of the town any good in the end.

I turned away from the restaurant and walked on down the street. I wondered about the rest of the hollows in Ponyville. Where exactly had they all come from if the townsfolk usually trapped them in the buildings?





"Hey, you! Yeah, you! I hear you out there! Come inside!"

I paused, mid-step. I had been wandering through the streets of Ponyville for about an hour now, and this was the first time I'd heard a voice that wasn't the incoherent screams of a hollow. It was a slightly raspy, nasally voice, but full of energy and enthusiasm. Or perhaps it was urgency I was hearing?

I looked around for the source of the noise, and was drawn towards another store. Unlike the ones I'd seen earlier, this one did not have a storefront with a big glass window. Instead, much like in Brittlesworth, this area of Ponyville simply built its stores like large houses and put signs over the doors. The sign above this particular building had a picture of a quill and a settee, except that several sentences of the mystery language were graffitied in red over it.

With a shrug, I stepped through the open door. It was light inside, with lanterns hanging from the walls, and a strong smell of incense permeating the place. Much as the sign advertised, it was filled with furniture, but all manner of random junk was strewn about on top of it. From a quick glance around the place, I counted kitchen utensils, farming equipment, books, weapons, cartwheels, bales of hay, clothing, jewels, alcohol, medicine and surgical equipment, framed pictures and paintings...

"Woah," I said.

"Over here, stranger! Don't be shy!"

At the back end of the store, between an empty fish tank and a cabinet full of antique glassware, I found an earth pony stallion sitting in a wheelchair. 

Had I encountered him out on the street, I would've sworn that this pony was hollow. Much like them, he had been ravaged by age, looking more like a corpse than most actual corpses I'd come across. He was missing both his eyes, so he lacked the trademark empty stare of a hollow, but even in the position he was sitting in, I could see his darksign. Still, he had much more colour than the hollows outside did. His coat was dull, but it wasn't entirely grey yet; this stallion was instead primarily yellow.

The undead stallion leaned in and smiled at me, revealing a row of rotten gums with several missing teeth.

"So then, what can I do you for?" he said, cheerfully.

"Is this a store?" I asked, looking around over my shoulder.

"It is indeed! Carrot Cake's the name, and I sell absolutely everything!"

"Absolutely everything?" I echoed.

"Yes sir! Only the finest goods, scavenged from across all of Ponyville, all made by expert craftsponies from before the fall. Every single item here is a bonafide antique, sir. They literally don't make them like this anymore!"

I turned around to look at the rest of the store properly. It was true. He really did have everything that I could reasonably expect a store to sell. On a second look, I saw tea and spices, mirrors, lawn ornaments, balloons, horseshoes, toys...

"How did you gather all this stuff here?"

"Years of work! Not like I have anything better to do around here. Ponyville's a quiet place these days, except for the roving gangs of murderous hollows. Can I interest you in some food, perhaps? The baked goods and vegetables all ran out decades ago, but I have plenty of meat and salt!"

"Uh, I'm fine, thank you."

That was a lie, actually. It had been a long time since I had last eaten, and I was definitely feeling hungry. But I had no desire to go carnivorous this early.

"Actually, maybe there is something you can help me with. Have a band of four passed through here recently? A Cleric-Knight, a Sister of Solace, and two minotaurs?"

"I did have minotaurs in here about three days ago, but that was a party of seven, and I don't recall any White followers among them. They were Chaos Paladins, on the way to the Everfree for another crusade against the deer... Hope they do better this time. The last three crusades didn't go so well for them."

I filed that information away for later.

"Do you know which way Sweet Apple Acres is?" I asked.

"Southwest side of town. You've got a ways to go if that's where you're heading. Plenty of hollows between here and there. Not to mention the other dangers. Are you properly equipped for a trip like that? Maybe I can interest you in a crossbow, or a bow and arrow? It helps to deal with your enemies at range, you know!"

This pony was entirely too chipper for one living in such squalor and solitude.

"Other dangers? What other dangers?"

"Oh, should be nothing. If you go the sensible and obvious route to Sweet Apple Acres, of course, which is going back the way you came and walking around the town rather than through."

"...Well, hypothetically, what else might I encounter?"

Carrot Cake leaned back in his wheelchair.

"Weeeeeell, there is the black knight that roams these parts, for one thing. Nopony's ever sure when he'll turn up, but when he does, watch out! Heh. He ain't your typical hollow. And of course, if for some reason you decide to go in completely the opposite direction from Sweet Apple Acres and head northeast out of town, you'd have to cross Ponyville's hydroelectric dam to get to the other side of the river, and an earth demon lives in the dam right now, so that's not a good idea."

"Uh... okay, I'll be sure to avoid those. Thank you."

While I stood there, weighing my options on how to proceed, another thought came to mind.

"By the way, what's with that crystal tree north of town? The one with the huge Mark of Twilight on top? Is it some kind of cathedral?"

"Ha!" Carrot Cake sat up. "No, that's just Friendship Castle. Or the Castle of Friendship. Or the Crystal Castle. Or... hmm. Y'know, I don't actually know its proper name. It's been here for almost as long as I have, and I still don't know what it's called. How about that..."

Carrot Cake stared into space for a minute, or at least that's what it looked like he was doing. Can blind ponies still stare?

"...So what is it?" I prodded. "Who lives there?"

"Hmm? Oh! Nopony. Not right now. At least I don't think so. Back in the day, that was Princess Twilight Sparkle's home, but... I haven't seen her in a long time. Not since before the fall."

I had several thoughts at once.

The Goddess of Friendship and Knowledge lived here? The Four really were princesses of Equestria? This random undead stallion has seen one of them? The goddesses are gone now?

Wait, what is this "fall" he keeps referring to?

I almost didn't know what to ask about first, but then Carrot Cake interrupted my pondering.

"You sure I can't interest you in some meat? I know most ponies don't like the thought; I didn't either at first. But it's good stuff! You get used to it surprisingly fast. Especially when you're hungry. Those Chaos Paladins eat the stuff all the time when they drop by."

My stomach rumbled, and my questions were momentarily forgotten. I let out a sigh.

"...What kind of meat, exactly?"

Carrot Cake smiled in a way that I found very unsettling.

"Undead pig!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Undead... pig...?"

"Chop a leg off an undead, they'll just grow it back anyway, long as they die. Seems like kind of a waste to not take advantage of that. Food's scarce out here if you're a vegetarian. I mean, I used to own a bakery around here once, but I haven't tasted real sugar in at least fifty years now... Celestia, I miss it sometimes..."

Not to sound horrible, but I was very glad then that this pony was blind, so that he couldn't see the look of incredulity and mild disgust on my face. My curiosity had taken a backseat to my sense of decency by this point.

"...Yeah, survival's a real bitch," I said, trying to keep my tone casual as I eyed the exit. "But, be that as it may, I don't really feel comfortable eating another person, y'know? I'm just not at that stage in my life yet."

Carrot Cake frowned.

"Pigs are animals, not people. I wouldn't eat a person either, stranger."

"I suppose that's at least somewhat reassuring."

"Of course. But I don't have any other food here, so you'll have to press on to Sweet Apple Acres if you wanted anything else. You can probably guess what they have available."

"I'll do that..."

"Okay!" said Carrot Cake, his smile and enthusiasm returning. "Nothing else I can get you?"

"I'm fine, thank you!" I called back as I trotted out.

"Thanks for browsing! Come back soon! And say hi to the Apple Family for me!"

As I exited into the street, I turned a corner and collapsed against a wall. I placed my hooves on my forehead and stared at the ground.

What the hell is wrong with this place?





For a while, I did legitimately consider following Carrot Cake's advice and turning back. While the hollows of Ponyville had presented little challenge so far, the mention of the black knight set me slightly on edge. Eventually, however, I decided to forge ahead and brave whatever may come. I had already come this far, and the way I figured, this was an opportunity to get in some relatively risk-free practice. The black knight was a potential problem, but an avoidable one if I was careful, and the hollows were no trouble at all. It was the perfect place to train without actually putting myself in danger, or so I thought at the time.

In truth, Ponyville probably wasn't a big enough town for me to spend as long in it as I did. Sure, I was lost, but it wasn't like the street layout was especially complicated. It was just that I spent a long time on each street. Every time I came to a new area, I moved through it at a snail's pace, constantly watching over my shoulder, checking around corners, and making sure that the locked doors all looked secure.

I peered around the edge of a building to look down one of Ponyville's many alleyways, checking to see if there were any black knights or demons waiting for me. I refused to be caught off-guard for a third time in a single day. When the alleyway appeared clear, I moved down it and onto the next street. It was a lot like the previous one. Plenty of residential homes around here. They were mostly boarded up and marked with crosses, of course, but so far that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. I looked each way down the road, and that's when I spotted it.

Surrounded by a cluster of six other hollows, at the end of the street, an equine figure the size of Sir Iron had its back turned to me. Just like him, the creature was clad in dark armour, but it was much more form-fitting than Sir Iron's was. Even the helmet was shaped more like a bullet than like the cylindrical helmet that he wore. And the helmet had horns. Plural. Specifically, it had two long, curved, and slightly jagged ones where a pony's ears would be.

The black knight, I presume.

I didn't dare make a sound. This was trouble waiting to happen, and I wanted no part of it. But fortunately for me, hollows don't have the most developed senses. I'd had to literally run into one earlier for it to notice me. So as long as the black knight kept its back turned, I was sure that I could avoid it without issue.

Still, just to be safe, I thought it would probably be a good idea to get off this street altogether. I turned away and retreated down the alleyway until I was back on the other street. This one was empty, unlike the last, and I had no fear of being suddenly ambushed by hollows here. I took a moment to sit down against the wall of a house and breathe. I took off my helmet as well. The stench from within my armour was almost overpowering by this point. I was not fit enough to be wearing this. How any unicorn could manage going to war in this gear was beyond me.

I opened my saddlebags and fished around inside, before remembering that I hadn't packed any water. I leaned my head back against the wall and groaned. I should've asked Carrot Cake if he'd had any. Maybe I could've traded him some of the gold for it. I wasn't sure if Equestrian currency was still valid in these parts, but I didn't expect a junk merchant would be picky either way.

There was a sound somewhere to my right, distant at first, but becoming louder every second. It sounded like hoofsteps, but not just ordinary hooves on stone, like the sound the hollows made. More like the sound my armour made when I was galloping. I looked over just in time to see the black knight emerge from the alleyway and bring down an enormous halberd towards me. I shrieked and rolled out of the way.

The halberd carved straight through the wooden wall of the house I'd been leaning against. The black knight wrapped its foreleg around the handle and yanked it free, pulling a large chunk of wood out with it. I grabbed my saddlebags and helmet with my magic while the knight smashed its halberd against the ground, breaking the wood into splinters. Chips of stone flew out out the road as well, leaving a pothole. When it raised its halberd again, I bolted, fitting my helmet and saddlebags back on as I went.

I ran down the street as fast as I could, no longer being cautious at all. The black knight ran after me, galloping at a speed that I thought impossible for hollows, halberd slung over its shoulder. A gang of ordinary hollows emerged from the same alleyway, presumably the posse that had been hanging around the black knight before. And more hollows were waking up and emerging from the other side streets because of all the noise I was making.

Mercy! Please, Celestia, have mercy!

It was fast, but I was sure I could outrun it. I had to, because halberds were designed for reach, and I was sure it could get me from where it was now if it tried. Thankfully, hollows are stupid.

As I came to the end of the street, another new oddity of this town came into view. The street opened up onto a tiny junction of multiple intersecting paths, and in the middle of it all was what appeared to be a gingerbread house, except the size of an actual house. I blinked, but now was not the time to question it. I ran towards it, quickly formulating a plan to run in circles around the house and escape down another street while the black knight couldn't see me. It seemed to be of above average intelligence for a hollow, but there was still a chance I could fool it that way.

I looked back over my shoulder, and my jaw dropped at how many hollows were now on my tail. There must have been three dozen of them chasing me now. There were so many that they were actually slowing down the black knight's pursuit. Then, to my surprise, it began swinging away with its halberd and hacking the other hollows to pieces in an attempt to clear a path.

"No, no, no!" I said, turning my sight forward again. "I can't die again here!"

I ran around the gingerbread house, just as planned. I was kidding myself before. I couldn't outrun this monster. I didn't have the stamina for that. I was going to have to trick him out, but that had been my intention anyway. I circled anticlockwise around the building, and the black knight followed me. While I ran, I quickly checked all the streets on this junction, trying to determine the best possible escape route.

I didn't account for the other hollows. They were nowhere near as fast as the black knight, so while they tried to follow him around the building, I ran straight into the back of the horde. Fortunately, they were still hollows, so I just drew my sword and cut them down while they were caught off-guard. I stabbed and sliced at them, and then just kept moving. They all began forming into one big bloody heap beneath my hooves, which I jumped over and weaved around. After one pass, I'd already thinned out a decent number of them, and had safely avoided the rest.

"Okay, okay!" I took deep breaths between reassuring myself. "You can do this, Firelink! You can get away from this alive!"

Then the black knight doubled back around and was suddenly right in front of me.

Damnit!

It swung. I tried to duck, but wasn't fast enough. The blunt side of the halberd struck me in the side, lifting me into the air and sending me flying into a boarded up window, which shattered on impact. I went straight through and landed in a heap inside the building we'd been circling.

"Arggggh!"

This was no light tap like the other hollows managed with their hooves. The halberd hurt, even through solid metal armour, which it had left a substantial dent in. I was sure that one of my ribs was broken. I lay on the floor of the building atop a bunch of splintered wood planks and broken glass, groaning. The window I'd crashed through provided the only source of light in the room, which was dim and dusty all around, but the light was soon blocked by the figure of the black knight. It was attempting to crawl through to get to me, but it was too big to fit.

I crawled backwards away from it, retreating further into the dark room until my back hit a table or store counter or something. I knew that there were probably hollows in here, but I didn't care. There couldn't possibly be anything worse in here than that thing.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" I shouted at the knight. "You're dead, you stupid thing! Go back to your grave already!"

It roared, actually roared at me, and slammed its hooves on the walls outside. Then it picked up its halberd and tried to throw it at me through the open window. I rolled to the side to dodge it, and the thing clanked to the ground next to me. For a moment, I stared dumbly at the halberd. Then I grinned, and looked back to the black knight. This is what I was talking about when I said that hollows are stupid.

"Ha!" I said, picking up the halberd with my magic. "Look at that! Whatcha gonna do now, huh?"

I floated it near the window, keeping it just out of the knight's reach, and then stabbed at it with its own weapon. It grunted as the sharp end of the halberd pierced its chest. I quickly pulled it out and stabbed again, lower this time. It didn't like that either. Looks like I'd just found my win. I peppered it with jabs all over its body, leaving small holes in its armour, and finished with burying the halberd in the eye slits of its helmet.

The black knight collapsed, and I pulled myself up and inched over to the window. Outside, I found my enemy lying on its back, motionless.

"Oh yeah! Don't mess with the best!"

There was a groaning behind me, and the sound of stone scraping against wood. It seemed that the hollows inside this building had finally woken up. I turned around to face them.

"You want some too?"

Then, from the shadows, a most peculiar thing emerged. It looked like another knight, much smaller than the one I'd just slain, but its armour was made entirely of interlocking stone plates. Numerous decorative chains were wrapped around its middle and forehooves, some of which were lined with colourful gems. Its helmet was strange as well. The visor was massive, with multiple vertical slits big enough for me to almost see a hollowed face on the other side, and the back of the helmet held a stone imitation of an oversized plume.

This was possibly the most ridiculous and impractical armour I had ever seen. I thought that the metal of my own armour was heavy, but a mere hollow shouldn't have even been able to move in that. In fact, I was fairly sure that most living earth ponies couldn't have moved in that. Wearing it must've felt like being encased in a block of cement.

"Um..."

While I stood there, staring, the hollow yanked at one of its chains with a hoof. I noticed that the particular chain it was pulling was not decorative, but instead trailed away to behind the counter. The other end was tied to a huge boulder that I hadn't seen in the darkness. I had no idea what this stone hollow was doing here, but it looked like somebody had tried to restrain it in a very unconventional manner.

"...Uh..."

Then it added a second hoof to the effort, and to my utter bewilderment, it pulled with enough force to lift the boulder off the ground and send it flying across the room towards me. I realised all too late that I'd been wrong. The chained boulder was not a means of restraint. It was a flail.

"...Oh."

The boulder slammed into my face.





When I awoke, my face was aching, and my neck hurt like hell. I groaned and tried to sit up, and nearly slipped and fell until I caught my balance. I was on some kind of slope all of a sudden. I looked down and found straw beneath my hooves, and a street further below me. I was on a roof. And then I noticed that I was also naked aside from my helmet.

"...What?"

I removed my helmet by hoof and inspected myself, the aching just beginning to die away. My armour was gone. Weapon and saddlebags too. For a moment, I thought I had been robbed, until I looked in front of me.

I was opposite the gingerbread house. There was a hole in the outer wall now where the window had once been. A whole pile of dead hollows littered the ground near the house, but the black knight was up and walking again already, and had retrieved its halberd too. Wonderful. It was just standing there right now, seemingly staring up at me, not that I could tell with its face covered by that demonic-looking helmet.

Then I noticed something. It was slightly obscured in shadow, but if I squinted, I could just about make it out inside the gingerbread house, beyond the hole in the wall. It was a dead pony, wearing armour that looked a lot like my set. My eyes widened, and I slowly looked down at my helmet.

"...Oh sweet Celestia..." I whispered, placing a hoof on my neck.

Well, if nothing else, at least I could say I'd learned another lesson from this: undead regenerate from the head, not the largest piece, like one would assume. So now I knew to never let myself get decapitated again; apparently a disembodied head could end up in some odd places.

I stood up and climbed back to the top of the roof, where I could sit down without feeling like I would slide off at any second.

Holding my helmet by my side, I stared down at the black knight, who still hadn't moved since I had awoken. It had been difficult enough to kill it the first time, and now I had to do it again to get back to my body and retrieve my gear. I had only made it this far in the first place because regular hollows without halberds or boulder-flails couldn't harm me through it. With no armour, I could possibly get killed by another mob. I could get bitten to death. And that wasn't even accounting for the stone hollow, who was probably still around.

Well, at least I'm safe up here for now.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, the stone hollow reappeared, emerging from the gingerbread house with blood splattered all over its armour. Mine, no doubt. It dragged its boulder behind it as it slowly walked towards the house I was on. Even for as far away from it and high up as I was, my heart rate still picked up.

The stone hollow came closer, and then swung its flail overhead. I quickly realised that I had been mistaken in my assumption that I was safe up here. The chain was long enough that the boulder flew right over the roof and would have crashed on top of me had I not leapt away at the last second. I yelped, and landed over on the very edge of the roof. The boulder sunk straight through the straw and into the house. Then the stone hollow pulled on its chain and ripped the entire front wall off the building. I made a second leap across a small gap and onto another rooftop, half-expecting the whole structure to collapse behind me.

"How?" I screamed at the stone hollow. "How are you doing this?"

Well, I wasn't going to let this monster kill me for a second time. It was strong for a hollow. Damn strong. But it was still a hollow, and hollows are stupid. And I was still a unicorn.

First, I reached out with my magic and gripped its helmet, lifting it off and exposing its head. Next, I tossed the helmet away as far as I could, and the hollow neither noticed nor cared. Underneath, it was just as old and grey as any other hollow in Ponyville, with the notable exception that it still had a few faded streaks of mauve in what was left of its mane. Step one was complete. Now for step two, which was to stab this hollow in the face.

I remembered all too late that I didn't have my sword anymore. While I was fumbling around and trying to find a replacement weapon, the stone hollow swung again. I barely dodged this time, and fell through into the building when the boulder crashed through the roof again. I landed in a dusty kitchen, and the boulder shot up towards the ceiling as the stone hollow pulled it back. At least it didn't bring down the front wall this time. I was relatively protected.

Seconds after I thought this, the boulder punched through the front wall and struck me in the flank, knocking me down and crushing my back legs against the floor. I screamed. The boulder rolled off me, and then was pulled back through the hole in the wall. I kept wailing to myself, until the stone hollow smashed down the door and walked in. My screams intensified. It stared at me with its empty, dead eyes as it coiled its hooves around the chains and prepared to finish me.

I looked around frantically, and my eyes narrowed in on a kitchen knife on a nearby countertop. It wouldn't have been my go-to choice, but thinking on my hooves, it was the best option. I reached out with my magic and grabbed it, and before the stone hollow could take its chance, I buried the knife straight in its forehead. It stopped mid-strike.

The thing started writhing, as if in pain, but it made no sound. All the while, its neutral expression was completely unwavering. It was unsettling to behold. No other hollow had reacted this way. They all made noise as they died, even if it was just a mindless, guttural groan. Yet this one was silent.

Finally, it dropped dead in a heap, half-landing on my already injured back legs. I winced, and then sighed as I pulled myself out from under it. That whole debacle had gone terribly, but at least I'd dealt with one problem.

I began trying to crawl my way out of the kitchen. I knew that my legs would heal if I died again, but at this point, I'd died enough times that my next death would almost certainly leave me hollow. Carrot Cake looked like he had been undead for a long time, and he willingly chose to live blind and in a wheelchair rather take the quick and easy option. I'd probably have to make a similar choice in the future, if I was able to get to a safe place away from these hollows first, because they would certainly take the choice out of my hooves.

Hoofsteps reverberated through the ground, accompanied by a clanking sound that I had come to dread. I looked up just in time to see the black knight coming through the front door of the house, halberd raised. It jumped into the air and slammed its weapon down, sinking it straight into my gut. This time, I resisted screaming, even though I wanted to. I held my mouth shut. Just once, I wanted to die with some grace.





The phantom pain almost wasn't even worth noting anymore. I was becoming used to it by now. For most ordinary ponies, I imagined that losing a limb was about the worst pain they could ever reasonably expect to go through in their lifetimes. I, on the other hoof, had already experienced multiple violent deaths in the span of two days, and the shock of it was fading already. When life is constant torture, one gains a higher pain threshold, I suppose.

I groused to myself as I tried to stand. I was right about my legs healing, even if they still hurt. That was a plus. I wasn't crippled anymore. And I also had somehow avoided hollowing yet again. I wasn't sure how I was doing it, but I wasn't complaining.

"Right..." I muttered, looking around the kitchen. "Now wh—"

A metal spike plunged through the back of my neck and burst out of my throat. I immediately began choking and pawing at my wound. The black knight lifted me into the air by the tip of its halberd, and slammed me down on the floor as it stood over me. I didn't even try to move my body, but my eyes rolled up to look at it. It still wore its helmet, so I couldn't see its face, but I imagined that it was mocking me. This death was almost more frustrating than painful. I didn't even have a chance this time.

Urgh...

And then the stone hollow rushed in and swung its boulder-flail at me again.

Optimists are morons.





This time, I wasted no time grumbling about throat pain or trying to get my bearings. As soon as I was awake again, my eyes shot open, I forced myself up, and I was already making a break for the door. I ran outside to find the gingerbread house looming in front of me, and bolted for it. My memory was a little fuzzy at this point, but I vaguely recalled seeing what might have been my own corpse somewhere in there, so that was probably where my sword was.

A smashing noise came from behind me, but I kept running and didn't look back. I made it to the hole in the wall before anything bad happened, and reached out to grab my sword as soon as I saw it. To my dismay, my magic didn't respond. I had so little soul left that even basic telekinesis was beyond me now. Great.

But that wasn't stopping me. I kept running until I reached my sword, and then in one swift motion, I leaned down and grabbed the handle by mouth, lifting it with the strength of my jaw alone. It was much heavier than I was expecting, and I struggled, but I managed to twist myself around to face my foes without dropping it. The black knight and that stone monstrosity were charging straight towards me, and I had seconds to react.

With all my strength, I lifted my sword to meet the black knight's halberd as it came towards me. The strength of its swing knocked the sword out of my mouth and hurt my teeth, but my block was successful; the halberd itself did not strike me. I ignored the pain in my teeth and lunged forward, tackling the black knight to the ground, just as the stone hollow swung at me and missed. The black knight dropped its halberd and floundered beneath me, and I seized my opportunity. I grabbed its helmet by both hooves and tore it off...

...Revealing a bare equine skull underneath.

"...But...!" I protested. "How can...? And with the...? Huh?"

While I was busy babbling, the boulder slammed into me and threw me against the wall of the gingerbread house. I crumpled and curled up into a wheezing ball, no longer able to breathe due to my lungs being crushed. I writhed in agony, slowly suffocating to death, and directed a silent prayer to the gods.

Celestia, Luna, Cadance, Twilight, Discord, any damn god that can hear me... All of you are bastards!





I was up again, incredibly, and still not hollow. Every time I died and came back, it felt like this next life would be my last, and every time I found the resilience to keep hold of my sanity. I resolved to not waste this chance. This was it. I was going to kill both of these wretched creatures right here and right now.

I had just barely climbed to my hooves when I saw the boulder coming towards me out of the corner of my eye. Without my armour on, I felt as light as a feather, and I leapt aside out of its way. I rolled across the ground and stood up again, and then I looked for my sword and dashed towards it. Again I picked it up by mouth, but I didn't bother trying to lift the whole thing this time, instead choosing to drag it behind as I dashed towards the stone hollow. The blade scraped against the ground, scratching a long, thin trail into the stone.

The black knight, skull still exposed, rushed at me from the side. At the same time, the stone hollow swung the flail again. I narrowly dodged between both, and the chains caught around the black knight as it tried to grab for me. I grinned around the sword handle, and ran the rest of the way up to the stone hollow, before maneuvering behind it. With all the strength I could muster, I lifted my sword and embedded it in its neck.

I wasn't strong enough to make a clean cut through bone with a full-sized broadsword by mouth, but that was definitely a mortal wound I had inflicted. The hollow collapsed, pawing at its own neck as it bled over the ground. The black knight, still tangled in the flail's chain, was pulled over with it, and dropped its halberd yet again. Acting quickly, I pulled my sword from the stone hollow's neck and marched over to the black knight while it was still on the ground.

"Alright, Mr. Bones, I don't know how you can even exist, but I've seen you die once. So let's see if you can pull off a repeat performance!"

My forelegs being stronger than my neck, I wrapped both hooves around the hilt of my sword. With barely any magic left in me, that form of tactile telekinesis unique to hooved creatures did not come easy, but I summoned enough to lift it and bring it down on the black knight's bare skull. It shattered into tiny shards of bone under the force of the blow, which flew in all directions, one chip even flying past my face and leaving a small cut. The black knight's body stopped moving, and it slumped to the ground.

I turned back to the stone hollow, and found that it had also gone still. I dropped my sword and fell to my knees, tilting my head back to look at the sky. The blue sky of rising day that had been up there before had now been replaced by setting day's burnt orange hues. I'd lost a whole day being dead. My eyes watered, and the corner of my mouth twitched. Then I started chuckling. Chuckling became giggling, and giggling became uproarious, maniacal laughter. I rolled around in the dirt on my back, crying and laughing for at least five minutes straight.

I couldn't help it. Victory just felt too good.





When I finally stopped laughing and recovered my senses, the panic set in, as I had no idea how long it would be before either of the hollows I had just defeated came back to life. In the interest of safety, I did the only rational thing I could think of. I stripped the bodies.

Piece by piece, I removed all of the bulky armour from the stone hollow, detaching the chain of the boulder-flail in the process, and left them in a big pile. Underneath, the stone hollow was just an earth pony mare, wrinkled with age, though decidedly not frail. I still wasn't sure how it was so strong. Yes, such strength was theoretically possible for an earth pony, but only with magic. Hollows don't have magic. Or at least, they usually don't. This one seemed to be an exception.

Then I pulled off the black knight's armour as well. Sure enough, it wasn't just the head that was skinless. Underneath the armour, the black knight really was just a skeleton. I still had absolutely no idea how this was so, but there was no sense in wasting time pondering questions that I had no answers for.

As I worked, the skull was already beginning to reform. It was slow going, but the pieces of bone nearest to the spine were visibly being pulled back together, and some chips of bone also seemed to be growing in size. This was the resurrection in progress. In less than an hour, the skeleton would regain... animate-ness, I guessed.

Either way, when these two came back, I wanted them both as far away from their weapons and armour as possible. I decapitated the stone hollow's corpse just to be safe, and stomped on the black knight's skull a few times for good measure. Then I took both the head and the skeleton into the house that I'd fallen into before.

There really was no easy way to dispose of the undead, I soon realised, but I could trap them. The skeleton was easy. It wasn't super strong like the hollow was, so I just shoved its bones underneath a heavy-looking bed. That, I hoped, would be enough to weigh it down for however long that bed remained there.

As for the hollow, that would be trickier. When I came across the bathroom, I considered flushing the head down the toilet, but it looked too big for that. And tying or weighing it down wasn't an option, because it was far too strong. So where could I leave it?

That's when I had the idea to trap the hollow in an attic. Not the attic of this house, definitely, because there was a hole in both the roof and floor of it from where the boulder came through. But in the next house over, I found an attic with only one entrance. I tossed the head inside and closed the hatch behind it, and breathed an easy sigh.

Sure, the hollow could escape easily if it wanted to, but the same was true of its original prison. By keeping it in a dark and quiet place with no outside stimulus, it would hopefully just wander about aimlessly in there forever. So long as no more fools like me came along to disturb it, that hollow would not be a danger anymore. In time, maybe it would even run out the last of its magic and stop being so strong.

I headed back outside, and regarded the pile of armour pieces left from my conquests. The stone armour was definitely useless to me, and probably also to every other person I'd ever meet, but I really didn't want to leave it out here. The gems in the chains at least looked valuable, or so I thought at first, but upon closer inspection, I found that they were actually pieces of rock candy. Yet another bizarre mystery that I didn't expect I'd find answers for anytime soon.

As for the black knight's armour, while it was damaged in the fight, it did look to be in good enough condition for further use... only it was still several sizes too big for me. In fact, it was too big for ordinary ponies in general. It was literally horse-sized. Only the halberd looked like it could be of use to me, but I didn't know how to use a halberd any more than I did a sword, and halberds are generally also heavier than swords.

While I was very disappointed by the prospect, it seemed like the best I could do with all this stuff would be to hide it away somewhere. I went back into the house and searched around for some kind of container. I eventually found a large toy chest in a foal's bedroom, which I emptied out and dragged outside before I could allow myself to get sad. Once I'd packed everything into the chest, I then pushed it back into the house and stuffed it in the fireplace. Some treasure hunter could come along and stumble across that later, and I'm sure they'd be very happy about it.

Finally, once all my other business was concluded, I went back over to the gingerbread house, and confronted the ugly sight of my own headless corpse.

I winced looking at it. Dried blood covered the floor, and there was an unmistakably foul smell coming from within the armour. I knew what happened to dead bodies, and this was not a reality I wanted to confront right now, but there it was. Slowly, reluctantly, I began stripping the armour pieces off my body, expecting to find them soiled.

Surprisingly, this was not the case. My corpse had definitely done things that corpses are known to do, but none of the... fluids... were stuck to the inside of the armour. I thought back to how I first found it, particularly how the surcoat was still in good condition despite the knight inside having rotted away to a skeleton already. Perhaps there was some sort of enchantment on the armour? Some kind of cleaning spell, maybe? Such a thing would certainly be more efficient for a powerful unicorn knight than having a squire do it for them.

I shrugged, and began suiting up. Minutes later, all my gear was back in place, shield and saddlebags included. I still couldn't use my magic, so I kept my visor up for the moment. That way, I could use my mouth if I needed to swing my sword again. I was not going to enjoy fighting in this style. The sword was designed with a mouth-grip, yes, but wielding a sword by mouth in the first place just felt wrong. A sword was simply not a good weapon for a magicless pony. I needed to get my magic back fast. Somehow. Maybe I could buy a new soul from a changeling, if I found one?

That taken care of, I stared down at my now naked corpse. Still headless. Still rotting. The cutie mark had disappeared from its flank, as had the darksign.

I really had no idea how to feel about this. I was alive, so it wasn't like I felt the need to mourn myself, but I just looked so... undignified. Before I was undead, I always expected I'd have a respectful funeral when I died. My loved ones would come together to remember me and say nice things, and my body would be cremated, so that my ashes could be scattered somewhere. And here was my body now, headless and stinking, a million miles from home, on the floor of a... what was this, anyway? A bakery?

And all that didn't even compare to what would happen now that I was undead. I wouldn't ever have a funeral now. My ashes could never be scattered. No matter how many times I died, I would keep on walking, whether as a person or as a hollow. Nobody mourns for hollows. They just dispose of them in really odd ways.

Then it hit me.

Ohhhh...! Of course! That's why they dissolve undead! Because if you try to cremate them, they come back as skeletons!

I smiled for a moment, congratulating myself for figuring out the mystery of the black knight so quickly. Then my smile abruptly turned into a frown.

Wait... How does that work? Why does the undead curse heal injuries, but not regrow flesh on skeletons?

My brow knit, and I stared into the space in front of me. It was beginning to dawn on me now just how little I really understood about the curse and how it worked. Undead were such a ubiquitous part of life that I just didn't think about them usually. But now that I was one, my ignorance was fast becoming a real obstacle.

As an undead, I had no idea what I was capable of, or what would affect me and how. Could I retain consciousness as a skeleton? If my soul is always with me when I come back, then where exactly in the body does the soul reside? Could the curse accidentally clone me and create a second Firelink if I was dismembered in a certain way? And would both Firelinks have a soul? What is a soul anyway? I had no answers to any of these questions, and that frightened me.

I shook my head vigorously and turned away from my body. These were not things I wanted to think about. Thinking about these things was dangerous. I was upsetting myself, and that could easily lead to despair, and thus to hollowing. I did not just endure seven deaths only to go hollow from confusion, so I filed my questions away alongside Notch and my grandfather as things I never wanted to think about again if I could help it.

I was done here, I decided. My business was concluded, and it was high time I got back to my journey. Sweet Apple Acres awaited me.





I didn't look back after I left the area around the gingerbread house. I only looked forwards, at the streets before me, searching for signs of Sir Penance's party and the promised trail of dead hollows. But down one particular residential street, just like any other, I happened to look upwards instead, and spotted a lone equine figure sitting on one of the straw-thatched rooftops.

The pony was encased in plain iron armour, and wore a bucket-like helmet that had only a small slit to see out of, and a hole at the top for the pony's horn. A great helm, I believed was the term. But there was one detail that was especially noticeable about them – the white surcoat which covered the main body of their armour, a symbol of a red and yellow sun emblazoned upon it.

I stared up at this mysterious sun-pony, until they slowly looked my way and raised a hoof to wave at me. I tentatively waved back, and the pony beckoned for me to come over.

As I came closer, they gestured to the side of the house, where I found a ladder waiting for me. I climbed up onto the straw roof, feeling no small amount of tension as I slowly moved over to sit next to the new pony. We both sat facing the setting day sun, which lingered on the horizon in the distance, but we were each looking at the other instead.

"Um... hello?" I said.

"Hello," the pony replied with a female voice. "You don't look hollow. Far from it."

There was something really casual about her tone. It was very easygoing, but I was much too tense to reply in kind. I was simply quiet. As if sensing my unease, the mare floated off her helmet to reveal her face.

To call her radiant would be an understatement. Her coat was a light amber, and her long, shimmering mane was two tones of red and brilliant yellow, the same colours as the sun symbol on her armour. She looked at me with light blue eyes that had an unmistakable sparkle to them, and her smile was so warm it could have melted butter. My cheeks burned just looking at her.

"My name is Sunset Shimmer," she said. "Well, officially, Sir Lady Sunset Shimmer. Don't laugh. What's your name?"

"I... uh... F-Firelink," I stammered out. "Firelink Soul of Brittlesworth. No titles."

She stifled a laugh, and levitated a small glass flask of yellow liquid in front of me.

"Want some?"

Lacking magic of my own, I reached out to hold it with my hooves.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Estus," she replied, smiling at me. "Distilled sunlight. Try it."

"...What does it do?"

Sunset tilted her head, and her smile became wry. "It's a drink."

Ask a stupid question...

I held it to my lips and drained the flask in one gulp. The estus was like nothing I'd ever tasted before. It was warm, like tea, but it wasn't just warm in my mouth. Its warmth spread through my whole body, like I'd just been sitting by a fireside for an hour. And the taste. I didn't even have another point of reference to compare it to. The texture reminded me of creamy soup, but the flavour was sweet, like frosting. It was the strangest thing I'd ever tasted, but it wasn't unpleasant.

I stared down at the empty flask once I was done.

"Wow. That's... unique. Thank you."

I passed the flask back to Sunset, who chuckled as she took it.

"And not easy to brew," she said. "But worth it, I think."

I didn't want to make things awkward by staring at her and saying nothing, so I looked back to the horizon instead, at the setting sun.

"So... are you just up here to gaze at the sun?" I asked.

"Hmm. I suppose so. I like to watch it sometimes; it's really beautiful. The world has gone wrong in so many ways, but the one thing I'm always thankful for is how much time we have now to watch sunsets. Heh. Not to sound narcissistic."

Something about her good mood was infectious, because soon I was smiling as well.

"Maybe I'll stay a while to watch it with you," I said. "It's been a long day..."





"I will stay behind, to gaze at the sun. The sun is a wondrous body. Like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent!"




> Chapter 4: These Shards of a Soul
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on that rooftop with Sunset was oddly tranquil. The preceding days had been so violent and bloody that it almost felt strange to have a moment of peace. The setting day sun tinted the sky a vibrant orange, and even the dilapidated ruins of Ponyville looked beautiful in such a light. In the distance, the trees of White Tail Woods swayed in the evening breeze. I couldn't help but smile at it all. No wonder a mare like Sunset had been named for this time.

"So, what brings you to Ponyville, Firelink?" she asked.

I still had trouble looking her in the eye, so I tried to hold the conversation while still watching the horizon.

"It's, uh... It's a long story... I'm sure you wouldn't care for the boring details, but... a friend of mine was captured and taken to the Changeling Asylum beyond the Sea of Ghosts. I went on a rescue mission and... kind of botched it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sunset's face fall. I hated seeing her look like that.

"I'm so sorry..." she said, placing a hoof on my shoulder. "Are you okay? Did your friend...?"

I froze up slightly, but tried to keep my composure.

"He... didn't make it. I somehow ended up here, and now I have to make my way back home. If... you don't mind, I shouldn't really talk about it. I'm undead now; it's not good for my sanity to dwell on tragedy."

Sunset reluctantly let go. "Of course. Again, I'm sorry."

I waved a dismissive hoof. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Really. I just need to... focus on other things."

"So... where are you from, then?" asked Sunset, trying to force her smile back.

"The Griffish Isles."

"Sunless Realms or New Griffonstone?"

I looked over to Sunset. "Sunless Realms."

"I thought so. Your accent isn't quite right for Trottingham. Too rough."

Rough? Is that how I sound?

"Well, you have a good ear then. What about you? Where are you from?"

"Equestria, actually." She leaned back, and returned her gaze to the horizon. "Not many ponies live here anymore, but this land was my home once."

"So are you from one of the coastal cities?"

Sunset paused.

"...Umm, no. An inland town. I'm sure you wouldn't know it, but it was lovely back in the day."

A thought struck me, and I opened my saddlebags to fish around inside.

"Hey, if you're from around here, maybe you can help me with something. Do you know what this language is?"

I pulled out the journal that I'd found back at the Shrine of Sunlight, and thrust it into Sunset's hooves. She lifted it with her magic and opened it up to the first page. Her eyes ran over it for a second, and then she looked to me with a raised eyebrow.

"It's... Equestrian," she said, flatly.

I stared for a moment, and slapped my own head.

"Oh! Duh! Of course!"

"Can you not read?" There was a hint of concern in her voice.

"No, no, I can read. We just don't use Equestrian where I'm from. Everything's in the Griffonian languages."

Sunset looked back to the journal and began poring over it.

"This is... Where did you get this?"

"Found it with this armour, on the roof of some shrine, north of here. I think it belonged to an old knight."

Sunset ran her eyes up and down my armour, until focusing on the crest of the star-tipped rod. Just like when I'd told her about how I lost Notch, her smile slipped away.

"...It's, um..." She cleared her throat. "This journal was written by a unicorn named Trixie. She... wasn't a knight. She was a captain of of the EUP Guard. Equestrian military. The armour you're wearing now was used in the Demon War."

"The Demon War? I've never heard of it."

"Equestria's conflict with the first generation of demons?" Sunset prodded. "The Great Chaos rising in the north? The Lost Empire? The Ivory King? No? Nothing?"

I stared blankly at her.

Sunset sighed. "I guess ancient history like that isn't of much concern to ponies these days..."

I looked down at the journal, which she still held in front of her.

"Could you please read me something from it?"

Sunset slowly nodded, turning to the journal with a grim look on her face. I didn't like seeing her in such a sombre mood, but I had to know about this.

"'...It's been forever since my last show. It isn't fair. I deserve better than this. We all do. I know Equestria needs us, but war was never my art. I miss performing on stage. Once, I was an idol of the masses. Now I'm just another mare in armour. The medals they give me are nice, but they're not the same. I can't feel proud after all the horror. I don't want to be a war hero. I want to go back to the Equestria I remember. I want to see my friends again, and not on a battlefield. But I'm afraid I never will.'"

The journal and the foreign text were not unusually-sized, yet Sunset had turned the page twice while reading that short passage. She had now stopped to stare down at the journal, at a little sketch of two unicorn mares standing together. One, presumably Trixie, bore my armour's crest as a cutie mark, while the other had a mark of a falling star.

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Is, uh... Is that all?"

"Pardon?" said Sunset, looking back up at me.

"You're not abridging anything, are you? Only, it seems that what you read isn't enough to fill how many pages you turned."

The corner of Sunset's mouth twitched. She looked back to the journal and shook her head.

"That's just how the language is. It's not very efficient. A word as we speak it, or as we might write it in any other language, would take up a whole sentence in Equestrian. Two sentences if it's a big word. Equestrian writing always sounds shorter than it looks, even if it only uses simple words."

I blinked.

"Two sentences to convey the meaning of a single word? That's insane! How does a language like that even get invented?"

At least my bewilderment made her smile again. Sunset closed the journal. 

"It wasn't even originally a language. Written Equestrian was conceived by the unicorns as a form of art. It's inefficient because all the characters and rules were designed to look pretty rather than be economic with information."

I stared at her, jaw hanging slightly open. She laughed.

"Yeah..." she said. "Probably why the Griffish Isles abandoned it, huh?"

"Yeah. Probably." I placed a hoof on my forehead. "I always thought the conquest of the north was the main reason we switched, but clearly that was just the excuse."

Sunset turned her attention back to the journal, and flipped through several more pages. Then she looked to me again.

"Firelink, would it be okay if, um... if I kept this? ...I have something of an interest in history, and since you can't read Equestrian anyway..."

"Oh, of course!" I answered, perhaps too quickly.

"I can compensate you for it—"

"No, no, it's fine! Keep it! If, uh, that's what you really want."

Sunset packed the journal away in a saddlebag of her own, lying just beside her. I noticed that it was emblazoned with the same sun symbol that appeared on her surcoat. Probably her cutie mark. I wondered what her talent was.

"Thank you. This means a lot to me."

"Not a problem at all! Though, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to hear more from it later. I'm still wondering how this armour's owner came to be where I found her."

Sunset's smile wavered briefly.

"I'll tell you as soon as I'm caught up."

Despite liking history, she didn't seem much a fan of tragedy. I was curious about Trixie, but I almost wished I hadn't asked now.

While I considered her demeanour, Sunset stood up and put her saddlebags and iron great helm back on. A few seconds too late, I realised that she was leaving, and got up to follow her down the ladder. As soon as we were on the ground, we started trotting out into Ponyville.

"So, you said you were trying to get home? Which way were you heading?" she asked.

"Sweet Apple Acres. Some White followers I was travelling with were on their way there. They told me that the locals would be the best ponies to ask about safe passage."

"I'd say that's a good start. That's my destination as well. Let's make our way there together."

I smiled.

"Sounds like a plan."





Chapter 4:
These Shards of a Soul





With another pony by my side, moving through Ponyville was a lot quicker. Between the two of us, no amount of hollows were a problem. Sunset didn't bother sneaking about like I did; she walked confidently through the town, and cut down any hollows in her way with barely a glance. She made it look easy. Meanwhile, I still lacked magic altogether, so I had to swing my sword by mouth, which in turn required leaving my visor up and my face exposed. Halfway through the journey, Sunset became concerned and asked about it.

"So, am I right in guessing you can't use magic right now?"

We were walking through a quiet neighbourhood at the time, Sunset having just finished off a gang of hollows that had charged at us. I sheathed my sword as we moved on past the scene of the battle.

"What, did you think I just forgot I had a horn?" I joked.

"I've seen stranger. So what happened?"

"I faced a tough pair of opponents," I said, keeping my eyes forward. "I died a lot while fighting them. Miraculously, I didn't hollow, but that many deaths could take the magic out of anybody."

"...You really died enough times to completely lose your soul?"

There was a sense of awe in her voice, though I wasn't sure why.

"...Yeah?" I said, looking sideways at her. "I mean, I made it through, though. That's what counts, right?"

We stopped walking.

"Firelink, I don't think you understand. A soul is a lot of magic. You could levitate that sword for a hundred years without totally burning out your soul. Dying takes a lot out of an undead, I know, but that's an incredible amount to lose in one fight."

My face fell. "Is it really that bad?"

"Let me put it this way. You should be hollow right now. If you'd lost it all in one go to a changeling, that'd be one thing, but how many times must you have died in this one fight? Ten, at least? Even with a soul, I've never heard of another undead staying sane past their twelfth."

That was the best I could hope for? Twelve deaths and I was done? Hell, probably not even that, in my particular case. Without a soul of my own to resist hollowing, I would lose my mind even faster. That I had made it this far was already nothing short of a miracle.

None of this boded well for me.

Still, Sunset was overestimating the count.

"I... uh... That's worrying, but... I didn't die that much. They killed me four times in that fight. I've gone through seven overall."

We resumed walking.

"Hmm. That makes more sense. So you already had a diminished soul when you entered this battle, right? What was it? Ferals?"

"I was turned undead by a murderous thief named Trusty Patches. I haven't seen my original soul since, and I doubt I ever shall again."

"But you must've had some magic to have not hollowed after seven deaths. Did you get a new soul from a bonfire?"

"Yes, I—" I paused. "I beg your pardon, what was that last part?"

"...I asked if you got a new soul from the bonfire."

I must have been staring in confusion for too long; a sigh sounded from behind Sunset's helmet.

"Okay. The Fire of Friendship is an eternal burning flame of pure friendship magic, created by the founders of Equestria. The bonfires are manifestations of its power, and they draw magic from the Fire directly to give out to any who ask for it. Changelings feed from the bonfires because they're emotivores who consume love and convert it into magic, and the bonfires give them the same thing, just skipping a step."

"Yes, Sunset, I know this," I said. "My grandmother is a Fire-Keeper."

"But what you don't know is that bonfires will give magic to more than just changelings. Anybody can ask a bonfire for magic, and if it's kindled enough, it'll grant it. If you don't have a soul, going to a bonfire is how you get a replacement."

"...Huh. Did not know that."

We walked on in silence for a little way. I pondered this ritual, and wondered if Gran ever knew about it. She certainly hadn't told me about it before, but then again, Brittlesworth had never had many undead, and very few of them died frequently enough for a lack of magic to be a problem. Besides, while my talent for pyromancy marked me as a good potential Fire-Keeper, I hadn't been formally educated on the nuances of the job. It was just generally assumed that I'd take up my grandmother's mantle one day, and hopefully she would've taught me enough by then.

At the end of our walk, we reached the edge of the village, and came to a stop outside a quaint little building. It was a single-floor house with square windows and a tiled roof, and even though the red paint was peeling off, its decorative motifs of hearts and swirling lines were still clear. On the roof, above the open door, a small bell tower was topped with a weathervane. An expanse of green surrounded the buildings on all sides, and hosted a small playground nearby.

"Is this a schoolhouse?" I asked.

Sunset didn't answer, instead watching the front door.

"...There's light inside," she pointed out.

It wasn't obvious in the setting day light, but she was right. A faint orange glow emanated from within the schoolhouse. Sunset and I looked to each other, and slowly moved further in.

We crossed the threshold together. It turned out that my guess was accurate. School desks and books and chairs were all stacked up on the left side of the room as we entered, along with a telescope and a projector. A blackboard lined the back wall of the room, with the teacher's desk sitting in front of it. An oil lantern on the desk provided the only illumination for the room, as the windows were all covered by blinds.

Most interestingly, a number of cages were lined up in rows along the middle of the room, taking up most of the space in the schoolhouse. Two of them were occupied. By the far end, just in front of the teacher's desk, a hairy creature in black robes and an equine figure in golden armour were imprisoned opposite one another. The pony was leaning back against the bars of the cage as we entered, while the hairy one had its face in its paws, but both of them sat up and looked our way as we came closer.

For a moment, I suspected that they were hollow, but then the creature spoke. He came closer and wrapped his paws around the bars.

"Ponies!" he said in a scratchy and high-pitched voice. "Help Grim. Grim is prisoner. Ponies must help!"

Sunset removed her helmet as we approached. I did as well, and took a closer look at Grim. His fur was wiry and black, the same colour as his aged, torn robes, and his muzzle was canine in appearance. He also had a tail between his legs, which were crossed in a queer way. He looked like he was used to standing on his hind legs. I'd heard tell of the diamond dogs, who spoke and walked upright, but I'd never seen one before. I'd always imagined them being shorter, like other dogs.

"I thought you were hollows for a moment there," I said to Grim. "Ponyville is full of undead locked up in houses like this."

"Hrm," said the golden equine in the other cage. "I'm no hollow yet, but I'm close to it. Being locked up in here with this halfwit could drive anypony to madness."

In contrast to Grim, this stallion's voice was like dark silver. It was deep and refined. Smooth, but also breathy. Also, more than a little sinister. In fact, it was incredibly sinister. It was difficult to describe the quality, but from the moment he opened his mouth, I thought he sounded exactly like a serial killer.

Sunset turned to the stallion. "You, sir. By your armour... you're an Embraced Knight, aren't you?"

He tilted his helmeted head at her. "Indeed I am."

I took a closer look at his armour myself. It was plate armour, covering him as thoroughly as my own set covered me. Several spokes jutted from the knees and shoulders, while others formed a crown around the top of his helmet. It evoked images of the Asylum demon in my mind. The helmet itself was made to look like it had a liftable visor, but in reality, a faceplate had just been sealed on, oddly lacking even an eye slit. Instead, it just had several tiny air holes dotted all over it, which couldn't have been practical to see out of.

The armour's most notable feature, however, was the moulding of a pair of disembodied forelegs on its exterior. They were made to look like they were draped around the knight, as if hugging him from behind, hence "Embraced Knight," I supposed. I thought it looked rather creepy.

"May I ask your name?" said Sunset.

The knight pulled himself up, the cage just big enough to allow him to stand if he kept his head bowed. Hesitantly, he removed his helmet, revealing the face of a middle-aged, bushy-eyebrowed stallion, with a coat just as golden as his armour. His messy grey mane was almost as long as Sunset's, but it was tangled and filthy. He bared his crooked teeth at us, and his eyes glinted yellow. I think he was trying to smile at us, but it just looked wrong.

"Sir Loving Heart," he said, no sarcasm or irony evident in his voice at all.

If we let this pony out of his cage, we are going to be eaten.

Sunset looked between Grim and Sir Loving Heart, as the diamond dog still clutched the bars of his cage. He looked up at Sunset with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Who imprisoned you two in here?" she asked.

"Bandits!" Grim whispered. "Yes! The bad ponies, they came for us! Held us here! Hostages, they say! Want Way of White to pay ransom!"

I looked over to Sir Loving Heart. His eyes darted over to me, and he nodded. He had stopped doing his impersonation of a smile, and had instead settled into a dispassionate look that I found difficult to decipher. His resting face was somewhere between disdainful and bored.

"How did you get captured?" asked Sunset, turning to Sir Loving Heart. "I would've thought an Embraced Knight of Cadance could take a few bandits."

"I was ambushed on my way to the Everfree," he said. "No doubt I have already missed my chance to join the first wave of the crusade by now."

This guy was giving me nothing but bad vibes, and this situation was uncomfortably familiar. It reminded me of Patches. In his cell, he had been perfectly cordial, but after I had released him, he betrayed me at first opportunity. This would almost certainly turn out the same way if I let it. I could picture my next death now, and it was Sir Loving Heart cackling with glee while forcing me down into a wood-chipper.

"Are you two going to free us anytime soon? Only, I suspect that the bandits shall return shortly."

"Sunset?" I said. "Can I talk to you, for a moment?"

Sunset looked at me briefly, and then nodded. We walked over to the corner of the room, out of earshot from Sir Loving Heart, and hopefully from Grim as well, although I couldn't be certain with canine hearing in play.

"What is it?" Sunset whispered.

"I don't trust him," I whispered back. "I really don't trust him. He makes my skin crawl."

Sunset briefly looked over to Sir Loving Heart, and then back to me.

"...Yeah... He seems... shifty..."

"Can we just leave him in there? Is that even an option?"

"But how can we justify that? He hasn't done anything yet. He's just... scary. If he is being held here by bandits, we can't just leave him to their mercy because we don't like him. It's not the right thing to do."

I sighed. "You're right. But I don't like this."

We trotted back over to the cages. Grim made whining noises like a non-talking dog, making me raise an eyebrow.

"I think we've worked out a way to free you," said Sunset. "Both of you stand back from the cage doors."

She turned to Grim's cage first. As instructed, he shuffled back, and Sunset lowered her horn to the lock and applied a heat spell to it. Within seconds, the lock glowed orange and snapped, and she pulled the cage door open with her magic.

"Voila!"

Grim scrambled out of the cage and stood up straight, his tatty black robes billowing around him as he stretched. He was now twice my height. Why was everything bigger than me in Equestria?

"Thank you, ponies!" he said, leaning down to shake our hooves with his paws. "Grim best friend for life! Teach you many spells later!"

"Wait, what?" I said.

Grim leapt over to the desk and grabbed something behind it. From below, he pulled out a long, gnarled, wooden staff, tipped with a blue crystal. Then he also donned a black pointed hat. A wizard's hat. My jaw hung slightly open, and the dog grinned at me.

"Must go now!" Grim said. "Bandits come soon, and must go find Witchcraft, great teacher from back home! Grim find Witchcraft, then Witchcraft teach Grim, and then, Grim will teach ponies as thanks!"

"Bwuh?"

"Goodbye, ponies!" he called as he sprinted out the door. "Grim see you again!"

And like that, he was gone, and I was just left staring. No way had that diamond dog we'd just freed been a wizard.

"...Well, life is full of surprises," said Sunset.

"Ahem." Sir Loving Heart tapped on the bars of his cage. "Forgetting somepony?"

Without comment, Sunset bent down to break the lock on Sir Loving Heart's cage, just as she'd done with Grim's. As the door swung open, the golden knight staggered out and stretched his limbs, including a pair of wings that I hadn't noticed he had. They were armoured as well, covered in thin metal sheets with sharp, bladed edges. I backed away on instinct. His neck cricked as he rolled it from side to side, and he placed his helmet back on after one last joyless grin at us.

"Well, it seems I am in your debt," he said. "I shan't forget what I owe you. I will depart now, before my captors return, but doubtless we will meet again down the road. I will pray for your own safety."

"Uh, thank you," I said.

"Thank you, Sir Knight," Sunset added.

Sir Loving Heart nodded and left, talking to himself on the way out.

"I'm free... Now... I can get back to work..."

He left with something that was more of a cough than a laugh. I didn't let myself breathe again until I was sure that he was gone. His laugh was like dust and sandpaper, the most blatantly evil laugh I'd ever heard in my life. That was how a scheming vizier laughed as they plotted to overthrow their king. That was not the laugh of trustworthy, non-murderous individual. "Work" was probably a euphemism for drowning puppies.

I looked sideways at Sunset, who was equally perturbed.

"What a nice pony," I quipped.

That got a wry smile out of her.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here before we start to regret this."





It was a short way from the schoolhouse to Sweet Apple Acres. After a quiet walk down a lonely dirt road, in which nothing else impeded our progress, Sunset and I came to a white picket fence surrounding an apple orchard. As we followed the path alongside the fence, I studied the trees and the ground. The grass was overgrown and full of weeds and rotten apples, and many of the apple trees looked similarly feral. Having worked on an orchard myself, it didn't feel right to see this place in such a state.

Eventually, the apple orchard gave way to a wide open dirt space, where everything else of importance on the farm was clustered together. A tall, faded red barn was the most visible thing there, although with all the windows it had on both floors I couldn't tell if it was actually a barn or just a farmhouse made to look like one. Just in front of the barn, a pink bonfire burned brightly, surrounded by a circle of wooden benches, upon which a red-robed Fire-Keeper and a changeling were sitting opposite one another. A pathway led directly to the bonfire from a gap in the fence, which we passed through.

As we walked over, I glanced around at the rest of the Acres. On my right were chicken coops, pigstys, sheds painted in the same colours as the barn, and the beginnings of the apple orchard we had just passed. On my left was a well, vegetable patches growing everything but apples, and in the distance beyond that was a cornfield. Ahead, past the barn, hills rose up over the Acres. The hills on the right side were full of more apple trees, while a house that looked like it was made from giant wooden barrels sat on the hill to the left side, overlooking a field of carrots.

I shook my head.

Equestrian architecture is so weird.

We stopped by the bonfire, and Sunset removed her helmet again. The changeling looked up at us first. He was small, and clad in a suit of chainmail, a shortsword in its scabbard lying on the bench next to him. He looked just long enough to register our presence, and then went back to ignoring us, burying his face in his hooves without a word. The Fire-Keeper noticed us next, slowly turning her head our way. When she saw us, her eyes widened, and she lowered her hood.

"S-Sunset?"

The pony underneath was an earth mare with a yellow coat and red mane, tied with a bow. She looked quite young. A little younger than Sunset, I presumed. That was unusual for a Fire-Keeper.

"Hey, Apple Bloom," said Sunset. "You're looking well."

Without a word, Apple Bloom shuffled over, inviting Sunset to sit on the bench next to her. She did, and I took a seat as well, remaining quiet while the two talked.

"Celestia, Ah haven't seen you in ages, Sunset," said Apple Bloom. "How long've you been back?"

"In Equestria? Only a few months. If you mean in a more general sense... a while."

The Fire-Keeper's accent was new to me. I hadn't heard anything like it before. It was probably a local dialect.

"Ah heard stories from time to time. They sounded like you and... y'know. But Ah always told myself it couldn't've been. If y'all really were back, surely you woulda come here by now. What took you so long, Sunset? And what about the rest of the girls?"

Sunset sighed and leaned back. She held her helmet in both hooves and stared down at it.

"Duty called. When I came back... The world was ruined. Ponies needed our help, so we founded the Warriors to do what we could. If you've really heard the stories, then you know why I couldn't come right away."

"But... for all this time?" There was a hint of indignance in Apple Bloom's voice. "Y'all were too busy to come back to Equestria for that long?"

Sunset glowered at her. "Yes, I was. I don't know what you've been doing all this time, Apple Bloom, but sitting here and tending your bonfire while hearing about tragedy is not the same as seeing it yourself. I've walked from one end of this world to the other, and everywhere I've been, I've seen things that sickened me. Injustices that you wouldn't believe. Cruelty of the sort that you can't just stand by and watch. Something had to be done, and change doesn't come easy."

Apple Bloom's face fell.

"Ah'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me."

Sunset sighed. "I'm sorry too."

There was a thick silence in the air. None of the conversation had been directed at me, so I was lost for context on a lot of it, but it did make me wonder about Sunset. I recalled Sir Iron, and his mention of having come to Equestria with several of his fellow knights. Perhaps Sunset had been in similar company in the past? I imagined her adventuring across the land with a party of gallant warriors, righting wrongs and fighting evil.

My first thought was of some of the Way of White's lesser-known knight orders. The Blades of the Darkmoon were infamous for punishing evil, and the entire purpose of the Knights of Friendship was to defend the common folk. But Sunset claimed to have founded her group, so I doubted she had been affiliated with either of them. Besides, she didn't seem like a White follower; the sun symbols on her armour were a unique design, not Celestian icons, and I was pretty sure some circles of the Church considered it blasphemous to have non-Celestian sun heraldry.

During the moment of quiet, I looked over to the changeling in the chainmail armour, who had since sat up and taken an interest in the mares' conversation as well. Our eyes locked briefly, but he looked away. A memory flickered across my thoughts, of Notch telling me how changelings can see in infrared and ultraviolet. To their own eyes, changelings are just as colourful and diverse as ponies are. I wished then that I could see as changelings did; to my dull pony vision, all of them were just black. All of them looked too much like him.

"So..." Sunset cleared her throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Apple Bloom... You look... young."

Apple Bloom smiled slightly. "You're wondering what my secret is?"

"I'll admit to being curious."

Reaching into her robe, Apple Bloom pulled out a small purple pendant on a golden chain. Sunset grabbed the pendant with her magic, but didn't remove it from her neck.

"...This is some advanced spellcraft."

"It was a gift from... our mutual friend."

Apple Bloom's eyes darted between me and the changeling. Apparently this was a secret from the likes of us.

"She always was talented," said Sunset. "This looks like an age spell, cast as a permanent enchantment. That couldn't have been easy."

"It weren't. But she made a few of these amulets." Sunset let go, and Apple Bloom stuffed the pendant back down her robe. "They don't make us young, but we don't get older so long as they're on and still got juice. It ain't ideal, but it's better than ending up like poor Mister Cake. He's so old now, Ah can't believe he's still going, but it's not like he can die. The curse ain't that kind."

That's why they said to fear the darksign. Every undead was fated to go the way of Carrot Cake one day, usually as the last step before they hollowed. However, this amulet presented an intriguing possibility. It wasn't a cure for hollowing, but it was treatment. Removing ageing from the equation certainly made things easier. A cautious undead who avoided danger could live a long and fairly happy life with something like that.

Of course, avoiding danger is easier said than done. Stick around long enough, and something will kill you eventually.

"It's not just you then?" asked Sunset. "Are the rest of your family here? Is... Applejack?"

Apple Bloom's expression grew grim.

"Nah. She was never undead. Big Mac neither. They had amulets too, and used 'em for a while, to keep Granny Smith and I company. But in the end... if ya ain't undead, there's only so much y'can survive."

Case in point.

"I'm sorry," said Sunset. "...How did it happen?"

Apple Bloom sighed.

"Big Mac had an accident one year. Farming equipment fell on him. It was bad, but at least he went quick. AJ was killed protecting the farm from monsters. She fought well for a mare of four hundred, but there were just too many."

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"I wish I'd come back sooner."

"It's alright. No need to beat yourself up about it."

"Are they buried around here?"

"There's a graveyard around the back of the orchard. Ah'll take y'all there if ya want to pay your respects."

She looked at me as well as she said that. Suddenly I felt very self-conscious, like I had been eavesdropping on a private conversation. Neither of them had asked me to leave yet, but I was still a stranger to both of them.

"I, uh... thank you," I said. "But I wouldn't want to impose on any more personal moments."

Sunset gave me an uneasy smile, while Apple Bloom just nodded.

"Alright. Sunset, ya coming?"

"Yes, I'll be right there." As Apple Bloom got up and trotted off, Sunset hung back briefly. "I'll be back later to help you with the ritual."

"Okay. See you in a bit."

I was a little surprised as Sunset and Apple Bloom left together. It wasn't like Fire-Keepers never left the bonfire's side ever, but they weren't supposed to leave a changeling to feed unsupervised. Not unless they were considered especially trustworthy.

The armoured changeling was staring at me now, wearing a tired, grim smile.

"New to these parts, are you?" His voice was soft, reminding me a lot of Sir Penance. "Let me guess... Fire of Friendship?"

It took me a while to parse his meaning, but after a moment, realisation dawned. He thought I had come here on a quest, following old legends of the Fire's origins.

"Oh! No. No way. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to do something about it, but I'm not here for any noble reasons. I'm just trying to get back home."

"That's the wiser choice," said the changeling. "The rest of these poor fools are too heroic for their own good. Over and over again they throw themselves at the mountain, trying to reach Canterlot, or else waste their lives in fruitless searches and crusades. In the end, they all end up the same way – corpses, walking or otherwise."

I wondered what had made him so jaded. How many heroes and great warriors had he seen pass through here on their adventures, only to fail or never come back?

"What's your name, friend?" I asked.

"Crestfallen."

Because of course it was.

"Firelink Soul."

"Oh dear." Crestfallen chuckled dryly and shook his head. "That's a hero's name if ever I heard it. You're doomed."

I laughed weakly.

"Well... I certainly hope not."

"Take my advice, Firelink. Leave here soon. Go home and don't look back. If you stay here too long, the hero's life is going to come calling. Don't give it a chance to tempt you."

It was strange. It almost sounded like he was... pleading?

"...I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

I was just about to rise when a thunderous noise sounded above me, causing me to duck instead. The great phoenix landed atop the barn with a screech. Perching on the edge of the roof, it flared its wings, bathing Sweet Apple Acres in its fiery glow. It was brighter than even the distant sunset, and Crestfallen and I had to avert our gaze for a moment.

"By all the gods!" I shouted at the bird, standing up. "How do you keep sneaking up on me?"

The great phoenix cocked its head. I searched for some hint of a deeper understanding in its eyes, but it merely screeched again and began preening itself.

"...Oh dear," said Crestfallen. "You're a chosen, aren't you?"

I slowly turned back around to face him.

"A what?"

"You were abducted by the great phoenix and brought to Shrine of Sunlight, yes?"

There was a pit in my stomach.

"How did you know?"

Crestfallen sighed and bowed his head. "Because it happened to me as well. Me, and countless others before. Now I truly do pity you."

He sat up and gestured towards the great phoenix.

"Firelink, meet Lordseeker Frampt."

I stared back at the great phoenix, but he was ignoring me now. To think, all this time he had a name. A name and a purpose.

Frampt's preening loosed a few burning feathers, which floated down and fizzled out in the dirt.

"He won't take you home," said Crestfallen, his voice lowering. "He wants you throw your life away here, on some foolish quest. Don't make my mistakes, Firelink. Don't be tempted to follow him and his empty promises. We are fateless, undead and changelings both. No great destiny awaits either of us. Only the grave."

As if in response, Frampt screeched and shed some more feathers, before taking flight and soaring away over the orchard, disappearing from view. I turned back to Crestfallen.

"What is he? Why did he choose me? Why is he following me?"

"To that, I can't answer. Frampt has his purposes, but a more cryptic being you will never meet. I wish I knew why he chose us, but alas, I do not. If you are truly desperate for answers, then meet him in the Fire-Keeper's Dream. In dreams, even a phoenix can have a voice... Just don't expect clarity or sense. Frampt will not impede you, whatever path you choose, but he will never help you. I don't think it's in his nature to actually be of use."

I sat back down on the bench and stared at the ground, wondering what any of it meant.

Life had stopped making sense. And I could name the exact day that it had happened.





The Fire-Keeper, Apple Bloom, returned alone almost half an hour later. I was still sitting by the bonfire with Crestfallen at the time, staring into the flames, and contemplating my fate in sullen silence. She woke me from my reverie by placing a hoof on my shoulder. It took me a second to remember who she was, and to puzzle the sympathetic look on her face.

"Sunset needed some time alone, so she's staying back at the graveyard for now. But she told me about your situation."

"Oh, about... my soul?"

"Yeah... Ah'll tell you what Ah told her. It's possible to restore it from a bonfire, yeah. Problem is, this bonfire's much too weak for that. It ain't been kindled enough to give a pony back an entire soul. That's a lot of magic. Way more than Crestfallen here eats every week."

I felt somewhat crestfallen myself after hearing that.

"So..."

"Hold on, Ah'm not done. Like Ah said, Ah told Sunset this as well, and she volunteered a token for kindling which Ah think will be enough. So we'll do the ritual soon as she gets back. Just... she may take a while, is all."

My heart fluttered slightly. To kindle a bonfire, one needed an item of sentimental value to burn, preferably a gift from a close friend, something that was given with affection. Notch and I would exchange such gifts all the time, in case we ever needed to kindle a bonfire for him to feed. I even brought a few on my trip to the Asylum, only to lose them when Patches killed me. No doubt that rogue was eating well right now because of those tokens. But Sunset was a stranger to me. What had I done to earn such generosity?

"That's... great!" I said, smiling at the Fire-Keeper. "Thank you!"

She smiled back at me, though hers was a sadder, pitying smile. I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck.

"So, um... While I have you here, do you mind if I ask about how I might get back home?"

Apple Bloom sat down on the bench beside me and lifted her hood.

"That's a tricky question. Ah reckon you'll want to talk to Granny Smith. She handles all the business on the Acres, and... well, she'll explain."

"Where might I find her?"

"Around the barn, on the left side."

I thanked her and rose from my seat, also giving Crestfallen a silent nod as I left.

I went around to the left side, as instructed. Another sentence of indecipherable Equestrian caught my eye as I passed by the front of the barn. It was spray-painted on one of the doors, which were held shut by a padlock, but since I couldn't understand it anyway, I shrugged and moved on. Just as Apple Bloom had promised, Granny Smith was waiting around the side of the barn, nestled away by a pile of straw. She looked out over the carrot field from her rocking chair, which swayed gently back and forth.

Granny Smith was a small, wrinkled earth mare, old, but not corpselike as Carrot Cake was. Her coat was still a colourful green, and her mane, while it had gone white, looked well cared for. On her flank, a cutie mark of a pie joined with the brand of the darksign, and around her neck she wore an amulet just like Apple Bloom's.

When she noticed me, she gave a warm smile.

"Howdy there!" she said, cheerfully.

"Hello," I replied as I trotted over. "You must be Granny Smith?"

"That Ah am. What can Ah do yer for? Apples? Corn? Moss? We got a lot of moss. In a variety of colours too!"

I wasn't sure if she was joking.

"None of that, I'm afraid."

Granny Smith narrowed her eyes. "It ain't carrots, is it? 'Cause the carrot field ain't ours. You'll wanna go over to the other house and ask Mrs. Harvest if that's what yer after."

"I'm not here for carrots either. Actually, I wanted to ask about transport."

"Transport?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm from the Griffish Isles. I ended up here by accident, and I have no idea how to get back home. I was told I should ask you about what to do. Do you know any way that an undead could get safe passage across the sea?"

Granny Smith looked up at her forehead and continued quietly rocking back and forth for a moment.

"Errrrr... Ah reckon... Fillydelphia would be yer best bet. Last Ah heard, they're still undead-friendly, and that's on the coast, so you could get on one of them ships. 'Course, news is slow to travel these days, so if anything's changed in the last few years, Ah wouldn't know."

"Okay..." Not much to go on, but it'd have to do. "Do you know how I'd get there safely?"

"Safely? There ain't no safely. Most places between here and there went the way of Ponyville, and bonfires ain't common in dead villages. That means hollows, ferals, and Darkwraiths. Maybe even a demon or two if you're unlucky. Travelling that way by hoof won't end no way but badly."

Great.

"So... you're telling me I'm stuck?"

"Ah didn't say that," said Granny Smith, leaning forward and slowing down the rocking chair. "Ah just said it's a bad idea to go by hoof. There's a rail line between here and Filly that may be up and running soon. Still ain't safe, but you won't be in danger for as long."

I actually had to stifle a laugh.

"You're kidding me. You have working trains out here?"

"Not yet, but we will do soon," she said proudly. "My grandson is helping to restore the old Friendship Express. Another couple weeks at most, and it'll be ready."

"That... That's fantastic!"

The wait was inconvenient, but I couldn't complain about a direct route home through all the dangerous country in-between. This was the best news I'd heard in a long time.

"We got rooms if'n you plan on staying here in the meantime. It's free the first two nights, but after that, Ah'll probably have to start charging rent. The Way of White pays highly for those rooms while they're staging their crusades here, and the second wave will be arriving soon."

That explained Apple Bloom's comment about Granny Smith handling the business, but I was in such a good mood now, nothing else she could say would put a damper on it.

"Fair enough," I said. "How much?"

"What've you got?"

I opened up my saddlebag and fished around inside until I found the pouch of bits.

"How's this?"

Granny Smith took the bag and looked inside. She pursed her lips and removed one of the coins, before trying to bite it. When it proved solid, she dropped the coin back in and gave the pouch back to me.

"That'll do ya for a few weeks."

I tentatively took it back.

"Uh... okay. So, where's this grandson of yours now? Can I ask him about this train thing?"

"He's probably at the old station in Ponyville right now, with the others who're workin' on the train. But he might be back soon. He does the metalwork, y'see? Needs to come back to his forge every once in a while. Just wait a while, and he'll be here."

"Right. Well, thank you very much. You've been a great help."

"Don't mention it."

I made my way back to the bonfire, but stopped halfway. A bushy salt-and-pepper beard with a red earth stallion attached came lumbering out of the orchard, pulling a cart ladened with sheets of twisted, rusty metal. The grandson, I presumed.

Speak of the Devil and he doth appear.

I stood by the barn doors and waited for him. He frowned slightly when he first noticed me, but it morphed into a genial smile by the time he came in speaking range and unhitched from his cart. 

"Hullo, stranger," he boomed, as he started unlocking the doors. "Can I help you?"

He was a great hulk of a pony, only slightly smaller than Sir Iron, and his beard was even more impressive. It was the mightiest beard I had ever seen, even blackened with coal dust as it was.

"Are you the one that's working on the train?"

"Eeyup. Y'can call me Anvil."

The doors swung open. It was definitely a barn rather than a farmhouse inside, on the lower floor at least. Anvil had set up a forge and workshop here. A few dying oil lanterns kept it lit, hanging on the walls besides elaborate blueprints of devices that I didn't recognise. An anvil with a large, round red gem embedded in the top sat beside a pit of hot coals just near me. Over in one corner, piles of ore, scrap metal, and coal surrounded a cold smelter. In another, hay bales and wooden barrels sat beside open crates full of apples. The rest of the barn's space was filled by weapon racks, stacks of metal ingots, and benches cluttered with tools.

The anvil was what gave me the most pause. The surface of it was still smooth despite the addition of the red gem, but I doubted that a gem would be as resilient to a blacksmith's hammer as the metal around it. What was its purpose?

"...Nice place you've got here," I said, running a hoof over it.

"Thank you kindly."

While I inspected some of the blueprints and weapons, Anvil pulled his cart inside and started unloading the rusty metal onto the scrap heap at the back.

"So, this train of yours... I wanted to know, when do you expect it to be running by? Only, I need to reach Fillydelphia soon, and your grandmother said that your train would be the best way there."

Anvil came back over to the forge and pulled up a tiny wooden chair to sit on. I was surprised that it supported his weight.

"Eyup. The Styx is probably your best bet, alright. But we won't be done with her for a week yet, and that's assumin' that the work don't get interrupted, which it will. Once the second wave of crusaders get here, Ah'm gonna have to fire up this forge again. I don't get paid otherwise."

"Okay... so, realistically speaking, how long can I expect to wait?"

The smith hummed, leaning back in his chair. "Don't rightly know. Ah'd say a week and a half is reasonable."

I mentally cursed the wait ahead of me, but Granny Smith had said that my money would cover a few weeks, plus the days I got to stay here for free. It seemed that I would be fine.

"Alrighty. I suppose I'm in for a long stay then... Unless there's anything I can do to help speed up the work?"

Anvil's eyes ran over my armour.

"Ah don't rightly reckon there is," he said, carefully. "Pardon me for assumin', but Ah'm guessing that your skills ain't technical, and we already got a pony running guard duty. All that's really left is heavy lifting."

I shifted.

"I could do heavy lifting... Well, after my magic returns, anyway."

Anvil nodded. "Well, whenever you're up for it, we'd appreciate the help."

Just then, a hammer on a nearby bench shimmered, becoming a tiny lizard with a sky-blue gem embedded in its back. I blinked. It looked at me, hissed, and then jumped off the table. My eyes followed the little lizard as it scurried away into the darkness at the other end of the barn, and disappeared behind the barrels.

That was random.

"...What the hell was that?" I asked.

Anvil laughed, not looking surprised.

"Imp," he said.

"...Pardon?"

"A lesser Equestrian mimic. Family pet. Don't worry; he's harmless."

I opened my mouth to ask one of the several questions which came to mind, but decided against it. This, I told myself, was not the strangest thing I'd seen recently, and I had better things to be confused by. I just shrugged, turned away, and went back outside.





I returned to the bonfire to find that Apple Bloom had left again. She was over by the edge of the orchard instead, having a very serious-looking conversation with a black-garbed pony, grey of coat and white of mane. Although he wasn't wearing one of their distinctive helmets, I immediately recognised him as being a Pardoner of Luna, one of another of the Way of White's many orders.

Just as the Ministers of Love preached love and conducted marriages in a community, it was the duty of the Pardoners of Luna to attend to all matters of sin and justice, unburdening the confessors while sitting in judgement upon the unrepentant. I never liked their order. Brittlesworth's own resident Pardoner was a sour old bastard named Brimstone, who was as holier-than-thou as they came, and never ever shut up. Most Pardoners of Luna, I later learned, were not so bombastic as he was, but they were all judgemental in their own way. In their view, there were only two types of pony. Ones who confessed regularly, and ones who were shamefully hiding their sin.

I supposed it only made sense there would be at least a few Pardoners along on a crusade, but it still annoyed me to see one here.

"What's going on?" I asked, sitting down beside Crestfallen.

He was watching the conversation with an idle curiosity, and did not break his gaze to answer me.

"That's Honest Heart, one of the Fire-Keeper's great great grandchildren, with a few more greats added on. He's come with some sort of warning."

The Pardoner was an Apple? That was strange; he didn't look anything like any of his other relatives, at least any that I had met. His colours were much too muted, he had a leaner frame, and he was a unicorn. Then again, I supposed that after many generations, family looks would begin to fade... 

I still found it strange to think that Apple Bloom was that old. Even with her earlier conversation with Sunset, I kept thinking of her as being closer to my age, because that's how she looked. And yet she had children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and who knew how much further her line went?

"A warning, you say? About what?"

Crestfallen made a dismissive gesture with his hoof. "Two prisoners of his escaped. Some rogue knight and a Dimondian spy. I didn't hear much more before they left to speak in private."

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up.

"Uh... huh... You don't say?"

Crestfallen only grunted an affirmation.

Damn, I thought. Damn, damn, and damn.

"They weren't... dangerous, were they?"

"Mmm... The Way of White crusaded against the diamond dog nation once before, and theirs is a long and bitter rivalry, but Dimondia is no threat to you or I. As for the other, I know little of the rogue knight, save that he was a crusader. But the Way of White doesn't usually imprison their own unless the matter is very grave."

Wonderful. Sir Loving Heart is probably an axe murderer, and we set him free.

I was never distrusting my instincts again. I could tell that he was evil from the moment we met. If I ever met another pony who was that overtly sinister again, I was going to stab them while I still had the chance.

While I was thinking, Anvil emerged from his forge in the barn and locked up. He gave me a wave before hitching himself to his now-empty cart and heading back towards Ponyville, stopping only briefly to exchange a few words with Apple Bloom and Honest Heart. Crestfallen and I waited in silence for several minutes more. The two of us stayed by the bonfire until the Pardoner eventually left and Apple Bloom returned.

"Ah'm sorry, Crestfallen. Family matters. You understand."

The changeling warrior nodded without comment.

"Um, I understand that the Pardoner you were speaking with lost some prisoners?" I said.

"Yeah..." Apple Bloom sighed. "That was my grandson. He worries for me, but Ah'm not sure we're in any real danger."

"Who is it that escaped? Did he tell you much about them?"

"Just what he knows. One is a suspected Dimondian spy, and a wizard, way he tells it. Wields this old staff that lets him cast spells like a unicorn. They're pretty common among diamond dogs these days, but Ah don't think Dimondia will trouble us none. The Way of White's another matter, but we don't usually make their problems our own here on Sweet Apple Acres."

"And the other?" I prodded.

Apple Bloom snorted.

"Sir Loving Heart," she said, a bite of sarcasm in her tone. "He was a turncloak who used to be an Embraced Knight of Cadance. Until he killed several of his fellow crusaders, that is. Honest says that they think he's gone Darkwraith, but... ain't no way to tell without his red eye orb on him. Ah think he's just gone over to the Forest Guardians, myself. Wouldn't be the first time one of their knights turned traitor in that forest."

Yep. We screwed up big time.

"Um, well... Let's just hope he doesn't come here, then."

"He wouldn't dare," said Apple Bloom, giving a sly smile. "Sweet Apple Acres during a crusade is the safest place in Equestria. Always has been..."





For lack of things to do, I went to sleep on the bench when the conversation ran out. Crestfallen wasn't feeling chatty anymore, and Apple Bloom and I had little to say to one another, so I let myself drift away beneath the orange sun. When I dreamed, I dreamed of Sweet Apple Acres, dark and moonless. It was just like my experience at the Shrine of Sunlight, only Sir Black Iron was not there to give me comfort and explain things. But that was okay. I felt I'd learned all that I wished to know today. Everything was beginning to look up already.

Given the opportunity, I explored the dream in my oddly lucid state. Being in the Fire-Keeper's Dream was not like other dreams. It was like being in reality, except that everything felt... lighter, I supposed? There was a weightlessness, and a sense of ease and serenity about me. It must have been a quality of the bonfire's light. Except that... Brittlesworth had a bonfire as well, and I'd never had dreams like this back home. The Fire-Keeper's Dream seemed to be uniquely Equestrian in nature. Where had it come from?

As for my experience, it was uneventful, in spite of its uniqueness. Lordseeker Frampt was nowhere to be found, so I simply walked around for as far as the dream let me. That being halfway into the apple orchard on one side, and all the way to the barrel house on the carrot field hill on the other. I tried to enter the buildings in the dream, but they were locked tight, so that put a damper on my exploring. And then like that, my time was over, and the world began to fade again.

"Firelink?"

"Nyurghhh..." I mumbled.

I opened my eyes to find Sunset Shimmer standing over me. She kept a neutral expression, but I could tell by the red around her eyes that she had been crying recently. I blinked several times to wake myself, and then scrambled to sit up.

"Uh! Hey, Sunset! Um... you alright?"

"Yeah.... I'm fine," she said, putting on a smile. "I'm back now, so I thought it was about time we did this ritual?"

"Y-Yes! Certainly."

Why was I so bad at talking to her? I had talked to attractive mares before. This wasn't difficult, but I kept making a mess of it anyway. No more, I vowed. This stuttering and nervous talk would get me nowhere.

Sunset took a seat beside me, while Apple Bloom sat on the opposite side of the bonfire, hood raised and looking grim. I looked around for Crestfallen, but he had disappeared. I soon realised why. The sky had grown darker, the orange hues fading away as the sun finally set after a long day. This state of semi-darkness would last another several hours. Setting night had begun. And tomorrow would be a dark day.

"Ahem," said Apple Bloom. "Y'all know why you're here. Ah shouldn't need to walk you through it, but Ah suppose if we don't practice tradition, it gets forgotten."

She stood and raised a hoof over the fire.

"A lost undead calls for a new soul. By rite of the Accords of Need, let it be granted."

The bonfire flared angrily, pink flames lashing out from the main body of the bonfire, which curled around the sword buried in the ash pile. The ashes were filled with small bones and bits of metal, gold and silver and red-hot iron alike. All tokens of friendship sacrificed to it before.

"The bonfire calls for nourishment." Apple Bloom pointed at Sunset. "By rite of kindling, let it be granted."

Sunset reached into her saddlebag. She drew a small book from within, the journal that I had given her just that morning. I stared at her. She smiled grimly at me, and levitated it over the fire.

"By rite of kindling, I offer a token of friendship," she said, "given with affection by a friend most dear."

I blushed. Sunset gently dropped Trixie's journal into the fire.

The pink flames licked at their pages and peeled them back, just as curious as I was to what words they had inside. As the journal slowly crumpled into ash, the bonfire flared again, once, twice, thrice, and then once more. With each burst, the fire kept rising higher, and when it was finished, the flames burned tall and remained as such. They did not recede, as they had when last I had seen a bonfire kindled, back with Notch in Woods' End.

I stared dumbly at the great bonfire before me. Did I really gift that journal to Sunset with so much feeling? Or did it really mean that much to her? Or was it just that the journal was the culmination of a mare's whole life, bound with all the feeling that an entire life brought? I never knew Trixie, the soldier who had died so that I could wear her armour, but in that moment, I mourned for her.

"Friends sacrifice a lot for each other," Apple Bloom declared. "The Fire accepts your sacrifice, and knows you for its friend. Now it will make a sacrifice for you, as agreed."

The bonfire flared one last time. Around the base of the fire, the ashes began swirling, spiralling upwards as if a tornado were forming within the flames. They came together as one, the ashes of Trixie's journal last, and white light emanated from them as they compressed together. I held a hoof in front of my eyes for a moment, and lowered it when it was finished.

For a second, a small crystal floated inside the bonfire. It looked just like what Trusty Patches had pulled out of me, but light pink instead of orange. I knew right away what I was looking at. A soul in crystal form.

As soon as the glow deserted it, the crystal dropped to the floor, landing with a light thud in the tiny pile of ashes that still remained. The bonfire began to recede as well, its flames dying down at a frightening speed. For a moment, I feared that we had extinguished it entirely, but when the fire had finished shrinking, a few tiny flames still persisted. In amongst the ashes and melted metal, where no natural flame had anything left to burn, the last of the bonfire's strength still crackled away, with pink embers glowing in the dust around it.

Sunset picked up the soul crystal with her magic, and floated it over to me. I held out my hooves and caught it as she dropped it in front of me.

"Here," she said. "Just crush it."

I looked down at the crystal. Seeing it up close, it was strangely beautiful, pale pink and cloudy. It was round, but not entirely smooth. Light spilled out from within, moving as if a glowing sprite were dancing inside it. I held it gently, turning it over in my hooves, and gave Sunset a long look.

"Thank you," I said, with confidence this time. "It's one of the best gifts anypony's ever given me."

She smiled at me. With one final look down at the crystal, I held it between both my forehooves, and crushed it between them. A strange, cold burning feeling formed a ring around my heart, lasting only a few seconds. Then a sensation of power, beyond my ability to describe, spread through my whole body. It started at my burning heart, and went all the way to the tips of my hooves and the top of my head, all as fast as I could blink. I gasped as it finished, and reeled forward.

"Wha...!" My eyes were wide, and my breath was short. "What the hell?"

It wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, it was incredible. I was just stunned by it. I had not been expecting anything so... that.

"Firelink? Are you okay?"

I turned to Sunset. She lifted a small stone with her magic, and held it in front of me. Gingerly, I closed my eyes and reached out with my own magic. I opened them again when I felt the old familiar surge through my horn. The rock now floated in a pale pink aura, the same colour as the soul crystal. It was different from how my magic used to be, but it was perfect.

I'm back. I'm really back.

Whatever goofy grin I was making must have been amusing to Sunset, who tried to restrain a giggle. I leaned over and pulled her into an embrace.

"Thank you," I said.

She hesitated for only a moment before returning the hug.

"Anything for a friend."





"The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with hollows, could that really be mere chance?"




> Chapter 5: For Your Brothers in Need
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day had been eventful, but the ritual was the last moment of significant note. Night was looming, so Sweet Apple Acres began winding down for the day. Crestfallen had already left, and Apple Bloom soon retired as well. Sunset and I had both missed supper, so with permission, we put a cooking pot over the ancient and venerable bonfire, and the two of us spent the evening enjoying a savoury stew by the fireside.

We talked into the night. I started by telling her about Sir Loving Heart and Grim of Dimondia, and our apparent mistake in letting them both go free. The news made Sunset choke on her stew, but other than that, I think she took it well. In turn, she told me a little about what she had learned from Trixie's journal, after having spent most of her day reading it.

Sunset painted me a picture of Equestria at war. She described a great, thriving civilization, which at its peak extended a hoof in friendship to the changelings, who had been their enemy for the longest time. Then she spoke of a terrible betrayal by a changeling queen, who broke the peace and devastated the kingdom. Many of her own people fought her, and the descendants of those who were loyal to Equestria still remain today. But the traitor queen and her rebels were buried, and their names were struck from history. 

At the same time, Equestria also contended with the demons. In the middle of their conflict with the changelings, Sunset told me of how the Crystal Empire in the north was suddenly consumed by chaos, inexplicably becoming a bed of monstrous, demonic life that ravaged Equestria. Beasts just like the Asylum demon swarmed south in the thousands, and cost Equestria dearly at a time when they were already vulnerable. Fighting such terrible wars on two fronts, it was little wonder that the kingdom hadn't survived.

It was in these wars that Trixie fought, as a captain of the Earth, Unicorn, Pegasus Guard, the Equestrian military. Sunset spoke of a mare who had lived in peacetime, made mistakes, sought redemption, and earned it as she wished. Yet for all that she had done to put her darkness behind her, in the end, it found her anyway. The usurper queen's rebellion and the coming of the demons consumed Equestria with war, and so too did it consume Trixie's life. She was never an undead, but in the end, she was left feeling hollow all the same.

All throughout, I remained unreactive and numb, or at least I tried to. Halfway through the story, Sunset stopped, and gave me a concerned look.

"Firelink? Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Hmm?" I said, sitting up. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"You seem like you're afraid. You think you'll hollow if you let the story get to you. I can stop if you want. You don't have to listen if you're that worried about it."

I considered that, running my tongue along my teeth and staring into the bonfire's flames.

"I appreciate it..." I said carefully. "But... I feel I'm obligated to hear it until the end. I owe too much to Trixie. I'm wearing her armour, spending her money, bearing a soul that was bought with her journal... I have to, Sunset. This is the least I can do. It's not a fraction of what she suffered."

Sunset simply nodded at that, and continued on with the story.

Once she had finished telling me all about who Trixie was and all that she had done, I found I had only one question left.

"So... how did she die, in the end?"

Sunset's smile was grim, as it had been throughout her telling.

"She was wounded by a Darkwraith," she said. "She escaped, and fled to the nearest bonfire at the Shrine of Sunlight for safety, but... there was nopony around to help her. The last few pages were just her musings as she waited to die."

Just as I thought. It was a shame, certainly, but I hadn't been expecting a happy ending for Trixie after how I had found her.

Still, out of everything, it was the mention of the Darkwraith that most seized my attention. Sir Black Iron had spoken of them before in the Fire-Keeper's Dream, and although my memory of the event was hazy, I faintly recalled him mentioning that they were already here when he and his fellow knights first arrived. Now I also knew that the Darkwraiths had been around at least since the time of Equestria's fall. There was something in that, I knew. Something significant. Just where had the Darkwraiths come from, exactly?

This was the question I pondered as I fell asleep that night, lying down in a straw bed in what was once an Apple Family cellar. As darkness took me, I thought of the Darkwraiths, and quietly hoped that I would not dream of them, too.





Chapter 5:
For Your Brothers in Need





The Fire-Keeper's Dream resembled Sweet Apple Acres, just as it had during my short nap earlier that day. The realm was still dark, but now there were lights on in the barn, and voices within. I looked around outside and tried to find Sunset. If this was indeed a shared dreamspace, then I was sure that we could meet again here. Yet she was nowhere to be found, and I still couldn't enter the barn.

But I wasn't alone. While I knocked on the doors and yelled for the ponies inside to answer, the sound of metal hoofsteps on grass came up from behind me. When I turned around, I found Sir Black Iron standing behind me in all his towering glory, a massive steel greatsword swung over his shoulder and held by a forehoof. His impassive helmet still obscured his face, but I broke into smile upon seeing him.

"Sir Iron! I didn't see you around the Acres in the waking world."

"No. You wouldn't have." His voice was deep and rumbly, but still carried that same gentle inflection that I remembered. "Much as before, my dreaming mind is not where my sleeping body lies. The art of dream-walking is known to me, and I have become well-practised with it."

"So where are you, physically?"

The knight shrugged.

"Here, there, everywhere. Does it matter?"

I supposed it did not, but I was disappointed by his answer all the same.

Sir Iron gestured over to the bonfire, and I followed him over. Without anypony else around, the Fire-Keeper's Dream felt as desolate as it had in the Shrine of Sunlight. The two of us sat down together. Sir Iron let his hind legs dangle off the log, and rested his greatsword across his lap.

"Why is there nopony else here?" I asked. "I thought that the Fire-Keeper's Dream was shared?"

"All dreams are shared. They all take place in the Dreamscape, our collective unconscious, but each dreamer has a dreamspace of their own. With skill, one can leave their own dreamspace and enter others, as the Darkwraiths do to invade, or as I do to visit you here. In our own homelands, unlike Equestria, bonfires are widespread enough that we need not fear Darkwraiths at all, and our dreams normally remain separate, as it was in the old world.

"The Fire-Keeper's Dream here in Equestria is different. You have the right of it in one respect; it does bring dreamers together more often, but the Dreamscape is a land of thought. Geographical proximity is... less relevant. As is time itself, which often becomes convoluted in dreams. Your dreamspace and mine currently overlap, because I will it so, but in doing this, you and I are out of sync with the other dreamers of the Acres, and there's no telling how much longer your dream and mine will remain in contact."

I looked around at the dark, empty version of Sweet Apple Acres. Indeed, there wasn't another soul in sight.

"So, did you just come here to check up on me?" I asked.

"Hmm..." Sir Iron tilted his head. "I have monitored your progress, yes. I feared for your safety after you left the company of Sir Penance and the Chaos Paladins."

"Wait, how did you know about that?"

"In this realm of thought, much is open to one who can read the language of the mind. If you do not guard your memories, they are as plain to see as if they were written on your face. Though, do not fear. My talent is rare, even among dream-walkers, and I take care to avert my gaze when faced with something private."

Well, that was... unnerving, despite Sir Iron's reassurances.

"Um..."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can teach you how to conceal such things. It should be simple to learn for a dreamer already in a lucid state. But another night, I think. For now, we have other matters to attend to."

That gave me pause.

"...'We?'" I repeated.

Sir Iron nodded.

"I have located your phoenix. Lordseeker Frampt is known to me; we have had dealings in the past. You will want to speak with him."

Immediately, the sound of flapping wings filled the air, followed by a screech. I looked up, and in the dark of the dream, Frampt's fiery glow washed over the Acres. He appeared as if out of thin air, fading into being as he came gliding towards us. With a crash, the great phoenix landed atop the barn, much as he had done in the waking world. I turned to face him, but didn't get up from my seat. He cocked his head at me, and I scowled.

"What a cold world it is, ashen one."

His voice made me raise an eyebrow. It had an echoey, distorted effect, but otherwise it was relatively normal, like the voice of any other pony or changeling. I didn't know what I had been expecting a normally voiceless creature speaking in a dream to sound like, but it wasn't like this.

"Lordseeker Frampt?" I asked.

"Indeed."

"What are you?" I demanded. "Why were you at the Asylum, why did you take me from there, and why do you keep following me?"

"I saw you in dreams, in visions that flicker and fade like the sputtering flames. Yours was a soul touched by fire, a manifestation of magic's disparity, before destiny was stolen from you. The gift of prophecy is known to me, and I saw that fire burning in the void, a bulwark against the night. I took you in hopes that you would rekindle it. You must become yourself again. You have known the world and all its tragedies. You are most likely to make the right choice, whatever it may be."

"I... what? Huh? What choice?"

"Darkness gathers, and so from cinder is born inheritance. Seek embers. Seek souls. Seek misery, until this frail hope shatters. For that is lordship's calling. The call that heroes before you heeded, and which they gave themselves to."

"Uh..."

"Fate watches us all. Be one with the light, or let all return to dust. From these two paths, all else follows. When you choose yours, walk it well."

Frampt flapped his wings and took off. I spun around and watched as he vanished into the night sky, fading out of reality in the same way that he had entered.

"Hey! Don't just fly away! You didn't answer my questions! You just gave me a bunch of stupid cryptic metaphors!"

There was silence. I hung my head and sighed, before turning back to the bonfire. Sir Iron still sat beside me.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"Lordseeker Frampt can be... frustrating, I know. He isn't prone to explaining himself clearly, but some facts about him are known. I can tell you that he is not the first of the lordseekers. His is a duty passed down a long line of phoenixes and great phoenixes, supposedly descended from one who served the gods themselves. Frampt makes his nests in several places, the Shrine and the Acres among them, but he ventures out often in search of heroes. Evidently, he took you for one."

"Why, though? Why did he think I looked like a hero? What are all these heroes he chooses even supposed to do? Do I have a choice in whether I do this or not? Or is he just going to hound me for the rest of my life until I go off on his quest?"

"I cannot possibly speak for why Frampt chose you specifically, save that he must have seen something in you. Nor do I truly know what purpose he expects his chosen to fulfil. Perhaps, in the act of specifically telling you the future he saw, your actions might prevent it? Yet if he did see you complete his quest, then it stands to reason that the potential for success still lies within you. Nevertheless, do not feel constrained by his talk of destiny. You may always reject the path he sets for you. That much he has always been clear about. Your friend Crestfallen did exactly that."

"But what is his quest?" I pressed. "He hasn't even given me an instruction! How do I accept or reject him if I don't know how to do either?"

Sir Iron rose from the bench and picked up his greatsword.

"Lordseeker Frampt may be coy at first, but in time, he makes it clear to all his chosen. Over the years, I have come to learn the secret. If you wish, I can show it to you."

I stood as well, but the moment I did, the world around me started to blur. Everything around me was melting away. I recognised the effect from the last time it happened, and was surprised that my time was already over. Time really was convoluted in dreams.

"Sir Iron!" I said, my voice sounding slower and deeper than usual.

"Calm. I will be here tomorrow night."

That was the last I heard from him before I woke.





My eyes shot open, and I sat up in my straw bed and shivered. My bed, one of several in the room, was nestled in the corner of the Apple Family's cellar. The cellar had been converted into a barracks for the White crusaders, but none of them were here right now. However, neither was Sunset. She had taken the bed beside mine last night, but it was empty now, and her armour was gone, although not her saddlebags.

I looked around. The cellar was lit by a few oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and walls, but it was still very dim inside. Moonlight poured in from the stairs, along with the cold. I climbed out of bed and made for the stairs, leaving my own bags and my equipment behind, and emerged into the dark day morning.

The sky was expectedly starry, and a half moon hung overhead. All around me, artificial lights kept Sweet Apple Acres bright. Light poured out from the windows of both the barn and the distant barrel house. Lit oil lamps hung from posts or lay on the ground near the important landmarks like the vegetable patches or the well. Braziers had been set up all over the place, particularly on the edge of the treeline, and they burned brightly through the darkness. And of course, the gentle pink flames of the bonfire contributed what they could. 

Dark days were always the most inconvenient parts of any week, but they had a beauty to them, I always thought. It was the contrast of them. Light shining through the black. Fire in the dark.

It didn't take me long to spot Sunset. She was over by the barn, where the door to Anvil's forge hung open, and a small crowd had gathered near her. From a quick glance, I noticed Apple Bloom, Anvil, and Crestfallen among the various figures, and whatever they were talking about, it looked serious. I frowned, and trotted over to see what the fuss was about.

The conversation became more distinct as I approached.

"...Than anyone! Please, Crestfallen!" said Apple Bloom.

"I will not." Crestfallen's voice was as soft as ever, but it sounded shaky. "Not again. Not ever. Would you ask an arachnophobe to clear out a den of star spiders?"

"Apple Bloom, I keep telling you, it's fine," said Sunset, as she fitted her scabbard onto her belt. "I can handle it. You know what I'm capable of. Crestfallen doesn't need to help me if he doesn't want to."

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked as I arrived.

The rest of them looked at me. Now that I was closer, I noticed several other ponies, just inside the forge. Granny Smith was sitting on Anvil's tiny little chair with a downcast look, and an elderly mare with a yellow coat and orange mane stood beside her with a hoof on her shoulder. Beside them, a middle-aged brown earth stallion leaned against the barn door, and Honest Heart stood inside with his back turned to the rest of us. As far as I knew, the entire population of Sweet Apple Acres had gathered here.

"Firelink," said Sunset, turning to me. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. There's... a problem."

"Problem? What kind of problem?"

"Darkwraiths!" Honest Heart roared, whirling around and stomping towards the rest of us. "Vile, depraved heretics, who even now as we waste time speaking here, are defiling our family's graves!"

"What?" I said, recoiling.

Apple Bloom sighed.

"There are Darkwraiths out in the orchard," she said, looking at the ground. "They can't come any closer to us because of the bonfire, but the family graveyard is outside the range of its protection. Until now, they ain't never tried anything like this, probably because they didn't know it was there. But now that they've found it, they're digging 'em all up to goad us out. "

Darkwraiths? Here?

"It will not stand!" Honest Heart shouted. "Those fiends have angered the gods! Luna's moon hangs in the sky, and they will feel her vengeance today!"

I turned to Sunset as she put on her great helm.

"So you're going out to fight them?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

There was a silence. I looked to Crestfallen, and remembered the argument I had overheard the tail end of as I entered. He was afraid. Then I looked at the rest of them. Old ponies, most of them, and I didn't expect the angry priest or the Fire-Keeper to take up arms, but...

"Anvil?" I said. "You aren't helping?"

"Ah'm afraid Ah ain't much good at fighting," he drawled. "Ah only make the weapons. Ah'm not much good at using 'em."

Anvil was enormous. He could have ripped a Darkwraith in two with his bare hooves. But just like Crestfallen, he was too afraid. I frowned at him; if I had his size and strength, I could've conquered the world by now.

The brown stallion cleared his throat.

"We could always wait another two or three hours," he said in an unexpected Trottingham accent. "Sir Onion will revive then, and then the two of you can—"

"With respect," said Sunset, "I can't sit around doing nothing while waiting for Sir Onion. Those are my friends' graves that they're defiling out there. I won't let this continue."

"Sir Lady Shimmer, you can't possibly face two Darkwraiths alone," the stallion protested.

"She won't," I said, not even thinking.

They all looked to me again.

"I'll go with her."

"Firelink?" said Sunset. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

She took me aside, away from the main group, and we around the side of the barn. There, she took off her great helm and glared at me. 

"What are you doing?" she asked in a slightly angry whisper.

"I'm volunteering," I replied. "He's right; you can't go alone. I've only seen a Darkwraith once, but they're monsters."

"I can handle myself, Firelink. But you, I'm not so sure about. You're already past death number seven, and you only just got a soul back, which we sacrificed something very important for."

"I know that, but I'm still not letting you go alone. Two Darkwraiths against one of you? Please, if you can't wait around for this Sir Onion, then at least make use of me while I'm available. If nothing else, let me distract them for you."

"Look, I don't mean any disrespect, but how do I know you won't just be a distraction for me? If you're in danger, I can't fight two Darkwraiths at once and also worry about you."

I glared back at her.

"I can handle myself too, Sunset. I might've died many times against my last two opponents, but I won that fight, alone, even while unarmed, naked, and outnumbered for most of it. Trust me, I can do this."

Even as I spoke the words, I wasn't really so sure of myself. It was an honest account; I had won against the stone hollow and the black knight. But my confidence was a facade. I made it sound like a great victory, when in truth I had just barely survived with my sanity. Still, that didn't matter to me in the moment. Sunset needed me, I was sure of it, and I refused to let her go alone.

And really... I just didn't want her thinking of me as weak.

Sunset closed her eyes and grimaced. "Alright, fine. Suit up and come back quickly. We've already waited long enough."





Sunset waited for me by one of the braziers near the treeline. All told, it took me about ten minutes with magic run back to the cellar, put on all my armour, and return to her. I was still fiddling with a strap as I galloped over, but I had my sword and shield at the ready, and my visor lowered in anticipation.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready."

The two of us marched silently through the orchard, the trees obscuring the light of Sweet Apple Acres behind us, until the glow of the moon and Sunset's horn were our only guides. Wind blew through the trees, causing their shadows to stir as they swayed. My hooves crushed rotten apples littering the ground as we walked, and leaves rustled as they swept across our path. I tried my best to not outwardly show discomfort, but the occasional swarms of bats flying overhead still startled me once or twice.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked once we were a ways in.

"I'll take one, you take the other. Not much more to it than that."

"Yeah, but... what should I expect?"

"Well... I don't know, not every Darkwraith is the same. Just watch out for what they have, I guess. Keep on the defensive for a little while, study their technique, and look for opening. How much training do you have with that sword?"

Behind my helmet, I closed my eyes in embarrassment.

"Mmm... none," I admitted. "I kind of just... improvise."

Sunset was quiet, no doubt resisting the urge to smack herself in the forehead for letting me come along.

"...Okay," she eventually said. "New plan. You keep the second Darkwraith distracted, like you said before. Don't try to hit him, don't be a hero, just focus on staying alive until I've dealt with my guy. Then I'll come over to help you, and we'll gang up on him."

"Alright."

"And another thing. Trying to stab through plate armour with a blade is a waste. Sure, you can do it if your telekinesis is strong enough, but it's not worth it. Learn to half-sword instead. Grab your sword by the blade and use the pommel or crossguard as a hammer; blunt force trauma is much more effective against heavy armour. Then wrench your blade into weak points in the armour, like at the joints or neck. Just be careful when you do it, and remember that this can also be used against you by a trained opponent."

I blinked.

"Ohhhkay..."

We walked through the orchard a while longer. Sunset knew the path to the graveyard, having gone there with Apple Bloom yesterday, but not well enough to just run there in the dark. We stopped frequently so that she could take in her surroundings and reorient our path. I didn't know how she knew where exactly to go in total darkness and with the orchard being so similar everywhere we went, but she did, and I dutifully followed.

Eventually, we saw fire through the trees. Torches in the darkness. As we came closer, the tall, dark figures who held them became clearer. They were Darkwraiths alright, both wearing the same skeletal-looking armour and dark, hooded skull-masks. One of them was looking our way, holding his torch by hoof, while the other was crouched down in the graveyard, and floated his torch beside him.

The graveyard was little more than a clearing in the orchard, just below a hill. A fenced-off plot of land contained a cluster of tombstones and monuments, most still marked with the cutie marks of the long dead, but others faded and worn. Many were smashed and vandalised. The rest of the clearing was just grass, but loose bones were strewn about everywhere. In the graveyard itself, it was even worse. Skeletons and the occasional rotting corpse lay out in the open between the broken tombstones, coffins stuck out of their graves, and there were mounds of earth all around.

This is barbaric, I thought.

The Darkwraith looking at us grunted to his friend. The one in the graveyard, busy hauling a coffin out of the ground, twisted his head back to look at us, and then abandoned his effort. Leaping to his hooves, he strolled out to stand beside the other Darkwraith on the far side of the clearing as we all faced each other.

The two casually extinguished their torches and tossed them aside, throwing the clearing into darkness. I almost started panicking, and was about to cast one of my bright fireballs, but Sunset beat me to it, shooting a ball of magic into the sky which lit up the clearing as bright as rising day. The Darkwraiths, having not even had time to reach for their weapons yet, seemed surprised by that.

"Surrender now, and I promise you'll both live," said Sunset.

"I'm shaking in my boots, really," said the unicorn vandal, the one on our left.

The sentry on the right gave his companion a sideward glance, saying nothing.

"What?" said the vandal. "Lighten up a little! Huh? Geddit? Because of the lightshow?"

The sentry only growled.

"Eh... whatever." The vandal drew a pair of twin swords, twirling them in the air with his magic and turning back to us. "Shall we begin?"

The other Darkwraith followed suit, drawing an unreasonably large greatsword and holding it by hoof, much like Sir Iron had done. A faint tingle of familiarity made me pause, even as Sunset and I drew our own weapons.

"Hey, wait a minute," I said. "You, the silent one... Are you him?"

He tilted his head.

"Are you the one that attacked me in my dream two days ago?"

The Darkwraith said nothing, but he growled again and stomped a hoof on the ground. I took that as a yes.

His companion started laughing.

"No way! This is the kid who burned you up?" The vandal laughed some more. "Hoho! Small world, huh? Feeling up for a little vengeance?"

The mute growled again.

The vandal chuckled. "I think that this is going to be a short fight."

"Perhaps," said the most evil-sounding voice in the world, coming from right behind me. "Or perhaps not."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Sir Loving Heart walked up beside us, stopping between me and Sunset. My spine tingled, and my heart jumped into my throat.

Sir Loving Heart wore the same golden armour that he had when we found him, his wing-blades glinting in Sunset's magical light, but another strange pair of weapons now hung from a belt around his midsection. I didn't know what they were, but they were long and thin, with straight handles, but blades shaped like crescent moons. They unnerved me.

Where did he even get those?

"Sir Loving Heart, what are you doing here?" asked Sunset, sounding no less surprised than I was by his appearance.

"Repaying a debt. Would you like my assistance here, or not?"

Sunset turned away from him, and focused on the Darkwraiths. "Fine by me. Firelink?"

I gulped, but nodded; enemy of my enemy, and all that.

"Very well then," said Sir Loving Heart. "Let us show these curs not to cross us."

With a motion so rapid that I couldn't even truly see it, Sir Loving Heart folded his wings back and then whipped them out again. In less than an eyeblink he was wielding the crescent moon blades, grasping them in his wingtips. Pegasus dexterity was truly extraordinary.

We charged as the Darkwraiths did, and met them in the middle of the clearing. Sunset swung at the talkative vandal, using her single sword to parry both of her opponent's weapons at once. Sir Loving Heart and I, meanwhile, ganged up on the other Darkwraith with the greatsword.

He swung at me first, and I narrowly dodged to the side, but Sir Loving Heart breezed right past him while ducking beneath his swing. The Darkwraith quickly reoriented, recognising the knight as the greater threat of us two, and drew his sword up just in time to block a wing-blade. Sir Loving Heart whipped around and struck the Darkwraith's helmet with the curved blade.

I stayed back, watching the fight for a moment. Sir Loving Heart struck a few more times, and scratches appeared on the mute's metal ribcage and skull-mask, but it didn't look like the blades had the power to penetrate steel. The Darkwraith's greatsword, on the other hoof, looked like it could have cut a knight in half with a strong swing, and the mute was trying his best to do exactly that. He reared up and slammed his greatsword down to intimidate Sir Loving Heart, striking the earth and getting him to back off, and then went for a sweeping sideways cut, only to narrowly miss.

I raised my sword and charged in while he was distracted. Floating it by the blade just as Sunset had told me, I attempted to bludgeon the Darkwraith with the pommel, but he twisted about to parry my blow. Even with the weight of his greatsword, and grasping it in his hooves rather than by magic, he was still inequinely fast. He swung at me again. Once more I dodged rather than blocked; my sword was floating too far away from me to bring back in time.

What am I doing? I'm only using half of my equipment!

My kite shield floated out from behind me, and I held it in front of me and tried to attack with Sunset's half-swording technique again. The Darkwraith was already back to focusing on Sir Loving Heart, but he casually twisted around to block another few strikes from me before he carried on.

I looked over to Sunset to see how she was faring, and was stunned by the ferocity of the fight I saw. Her duel with the Darkwraith was less of a swordfight and more of a tornado. With two blades at his disposal, the Darkwraith was raining a flurry of blows down on Sunset with the same kind of unnatural speed that the mute displayed. Yet, impossibly, Sunset was even faster. Their swords rang as she parried each strike and even attempted a few half-sword ripostes, despite only having one weapon to his two.

But as impressive as it was, Sunset was still outarmed, and the Darkwraiths seemed to be almost supernaturally fast. She was winning, but only by slowly wearing him down. They were more evenly matched than I was comfortable with.

This isn't working, I realised. We're fighting the wrong opponents.

"Sunset! Loving Heart! Switch!" I called.

They both looked my way for the briefest of seconds, and then to each other. Without pause, Sunset leapt away from her opponent, rolling sideways across the grass and striking suddenly at the mute. Sir Loving Heart, meanwhile, streaked across the clearing to meet the vandal as he tried to go after Sunset. I followed him.

Sir Loving Heart came down upon the vandal with force. Every time the vandal swung his twin swords, Sir Loving Heart would match him blow-for-blow with either crescent blades or wing-blades. He wasn't as fast as Sunset, but he didn't need to be; he only needed to keep pace with the vandal. And at the same time, he attacked with his hooves, punching and kicking forwards at his opponent, who was startled and forced back.

I joined the fray soon after. My broadsword added to the chaos, floating in and swinging at the Darkwraith, and putting him on the defensive. This made three major points of attack to his two, and he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Then I brought in my shield as well, and floated my sword around out of reach to attack him from behind.

That was it. He brought one of his swords around to block a potential backstab, but I blocked that in turn with the shield. With only one sword at the vandal's front to guard him, Sir Loving Heart's wing-blades struck his mask, stunning him. I pressed the advantage and hammered my broadsword against the back of his head with as much telekinetic force as I could muster.

There was a loud clang and a scream, and the Darkwraith dropped both his swords and fell to his knees. His helmet came loose and fell onto the grass in front of him, exposing the vandal's inky black face and silver mane. I struck him in the ribs next. He slumped over and fell on his side. Sir Loving Heart had stepped back now, catching his breath, but the Darkwraith was already trying to get back up. In the rush of battle, I didn't even think. I just turned my sword around, aimed the blade for his throat, and swung down.

There was a sickening squelch and squish as it embedded in his neck. I didn't even make a proper cut. Rather than decapitating the Darkwraith as I should've, I left him struggling for breath as blood gushed from his neck wound and spouted out of his mouth. He reached up towards me and spasmed on the ground, as if in shock. All the while, he kept trying to say something, but he could only gurgle. I stood over him, staring down with wide eyes, the sound of clanging steel behind me barely registering.

Sir Loving Heart snapped me out my daze when he smacked me on the shoulder.

"Fine work!" he said, for once with something resembling passion. "Come on, now! We're not finished yet!"

I turned about and did as he said, running after him to rejoin the fight against the remaining Darkwraith. Sunset already had him on the ropes. She blocked him easily, hit him back with a half-sword strike, and then blocked another blow. He wasn't able to defend very well against her either. I was actually impressed that he was even still standing after the amount of punishment Sunset had already inflicted on him. He was staggering every other second, his armour was wrecked, and his hood had fallen back, exposing a shiny, round skull helm.

Having seen from the vandal that Darkwraith helmets were loose, I could think of nothing more useful I could do than to remove it. Just as I had with the stone hollow and the black knight before, I gripped the Darkwraith's skull helm with my magic and tore it loose, although it was a lot harder than I had been expecting. He realised what I was doing and tried to reach up and grab it, but that left him holding his greatsword with only one hoof. Sunset punished him for it, knocking the greatsword out of his grasp.

Despite his best efforts, the mute's helmet came off. The stallion on the other side was bald and aging, significantly less impressive without his mask, although curiously, his coat was just as black as the other Darkwraith's had been. Sir Loving Heart wasted no time flying up and cutting his throat with a curved blade. Sunset and I recoiled as the blood sprayed over us. The Darkwraith blinked once, and then collapsed to the ground, falling still.

Sir Loving Heart fluttered down gently onto the grass, before nonchalantly drawing a cloth from somewhere and wiping off his blades. Sunset and I pulled off our helmets. The metallic stench of all the blood in the clearing hit me right after. Sunset reacted much as I did, wrinkling her nose and looking down at the fresh corpses in clear disgust.

"I'm not sure that was necessary," she said. "We probably could've taken that one alive."

"Perhaps so," said Sir Loving Heart, finishing his cleaning. "But I've always preferred a more... decisive end."

He placed the crescent blades back on his belt and folded his wings, before going over to examine the mute's corpse. Sunset looked around at all the bones strewn across the clearing, and walked off into the graveyard. I instead went over to the vandal's body. The stallion stared up at the sky, Sunset's magical orb reflecting in his lifeless eyes, and his mouth and neck were entirely red.

I guess it's official. I've killed somebody. Not a hollow or a feral, but a real person.

I was going to have to make my peace with that somehow. For the moment, I mentally reassured myself that he'd wanted to kill me as well. That wasn't murder; it was self-defence. And it wasn't like I'd cut his throat while he slept or anything. I'd killed him in honourable combat. Hadn't I?

Two-on-one, said a little voice in my head. And finished while he was down. Very honourable.

I hung my head and sighed. And exactly when I least needed it, Sir Loving Heart sidled up next to me.

"Not bad," he said in that breathy serial killer voice of his. "But I sense you're not proud of it."

"Why should I be?" I muttered, still looking down at the body.

"Because it was a good kill. It ended the fight quickly, as we needed. I can't make use of mordschlag myself; wing-blades and shotels are hardly suited for it. But you have an admirable grasp of the technique. I doubt we would have prevailed without you."

"It wasn't quick for him. He bled out. I should have made a cleaner cut."

Sir Loving Heart removed his own helmet and brushed his long, stringy mane out of his eyes. He looked at me with the same bored, contemptuous expression that I'd seen on him back in the schoolhouse. I was fairly sure now that this was his resting face.

"If you want to do right by your foes, then yes, you grant them a quick death," he said. "But don't think a Darkwraith would ever do the same for you. They like to ambush in groups, like ferals, and prey on the helpless. When they slay you, they won't just take your gold like common bandits, but will steal your very soul. Honour is as foreign a concept to them as it is to hollows, so don't waste time bowing before duels or fighting fair with them. There is a time and a place for mercy, and it is not with these creatures. With them, you show no quarter, and do whatever it takes to survive."

I swallowed, and turned to face him.

"Is that what you do, sir?" I asked. "Whatever it takes?"

His brow furrowed slightly. "Of course."

This pony is literally a murderer, Firelink. Don't tempt fate.

I nodded, and went over to Sunset. I was hoping Sir Loving Heart would get the hint that I didn't want to talk anymore, but he followed me into the graveyard not long after. Walking through, I looked at all the smashed tombstones and defiled graves. Most of them had been dug up, with broken coffins pulled out of the ground, and bones scattered around. A few fresher body parts were also lying about, rotting and foul, and too decomposed to identify who they belonged to.

Sunset was in the back of the graveyard, near five much larger tombstones, all engraved with Equestrian writing, and all dug up and vandalised. One of the tombstones, off on its own, depicted a top hat and spotlight, but the other four were in pairs. The first pair had a singular green apple on one tombstone, and a trio of smiling flowers on the other. The second pair had a trio of red apples on one, and what looked like a cloud and lightning bolt on the other. Sunset was standing over the latter pair, staring down at them.

"Sunset, are you alright?" I said.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice breaking. "Darkwraiths are animals; I expected nothing less than this."

"...Should we inter the dead back where they belong?"

"I wouldn't know who goes where."

"Does it matter?" asked Sir Loving Heart. "As long as they're back in the ground, I don't think anybody will complain."

Sunset turned around and gave him a cold look.

"...I've heard troubling things about you, sir," she said.

Please, Sunset, not now.

"Oh?"

"Father Honest Heart, a Pardoner of Luna, says that you murdered several fellow knights, and that you were actually his prisoner, not a victim of bandits as you told us."

Sir Loving Heart's expression did not change.

"I'll confess, I was complicit in the dog's lie. He was cleverer than I gave him credit for, and weaved a tale to make you more likely to release us. I saw an opportunity, and I played along. For that, I apologise. But as to the murders, I'm afraid I'm innocent of those."

"Really?" said Sunset. "You deny it?"

"Completely and utterly."

Sunset's boldness was making me feel a little braver too.

"Then why did Honest Heart believe that it was you who killed the knights?" I asked.

Sir Loving Heart snorted.

"Honest has always held me in contempt. Long ago, I wed his sister in secrecy and stole away with her, even took her last name for my own. He always thought me too old for her. Distrusted me. Resented that she chose me despite his wishes. And when she died a most a tragic and untimely death, he blamed me for it, never seeing that ours was a shared grief. I am not surprised at all that he sought any excuse he could find to imprison me. It's not the first time he's done it."

Sunset returned to staring down into the graves. "If that's true, then I'm sorry for the accusation, and for your loss. But you know we can't take you at your word. What if you're lying to us right now, Sir Knight?"

"I see your dilemma, but Honest Heart cannot be the one to judge me, and he controls all the Darkmoons along on this crusade. If I go back to the Acres with you, I will be executed without trial as soon as the second wave arrives."

"Then what do we do?" asked Sunset.

"You released me once, and I repaid the favour. If nothing else, I think I've proven that I honour my debts. Let me go now, and allow me time to clear my name, and I will be in your debt once more. If I have no sufficient proof of my innocence when next we meet, then you can take me into custody as you please. All I ask is that I'm given a chance appeal before somepony more impartial."

"You're still asking us to take you at your word," I pointed out.

He looked to me.

"Very well. A gesture of friendship, then."

He reached into a small pouch tied around a forehoof, and pulled out two round red orbs, each about the size of an apple, and bearing an image of a mad yellow eye with a red pupil. Sir Loving Heart dropped them both at my hooves.

"From our two dead friends. I was planning to take them as plunder and sell them to some Chaos Paladins, but you may have them instead. As a gift."

I recalled the Pardoner's theory that Sir Loving Heart had turned Darkwraith, but that they couldn't find a red eye orb on his person to prove it. His intent to take these ones was suspicious. But then again, if helping us to kill two Darkwraiths wasn't proof enough already that he wasn't one himself, then what was? It didn't rule out him being a murderer for other reasons, but he had at least convinced me that Honest Heart had it wrong.

Sunset paused as she picked up the red eye orbs.

"I don't entirely trust you," she said, looking back at him. "But... it's your word against his. You're both members of the Church, and you helped us when you didn't need to. We'll let you go this once, Sir Heart, but if we find that you are guilty, don't expect any mercy next time."

Sir Loving Heart placed a hoof over his chest and bowed.

"As you will it, Sir Lady Shimmer. My thanks to you both. I will see you again."

He trotted off into the orchard, leaving Sunset and I alone once more. I joined her by the graves.

"Was that wise?" I asked. "That's twice now we've let that stallion walk free, and I'm still pretty sure he strangles kittens for fun."

She casually passed a red eye orb to me. I looked down at it for a second, then back at her, before tentatively accepting it.

"Firelink... I understand. He creeps me out too, but we can't presume guilt. He deserves the benefit of the doubt just as much as anybody else. I don't like it either, but sometimes, you just have to trust."

"He lied to us once," I said, putting the orb in a saddlebag.

"And he helped us once. Maybe sometimes the world isn't black and white."

I had no answer for that.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Sunset."

"Yeah..." She turned to me. "And, by the way... thank you. I was worried about you coming in, but you were right. You're stronger than I gave you credit for, and I'm glad to have had a friend like you along to help."

That made me smile.

"Well... heh... Y'know, it was no problem..."

Sunset smiled as well for the briefest of moments, before looking around the graveyard again and sighing.

"...We should get back to Apple Bloom and the others..."





We received a hero's welcome on our return. A cheer went up from the small crowd when they saw us emerging from the orchard, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of elation from it in spite of everything. Sunset seemed to brighten up as well, for the first time since I had met her on that rooftop. Trixie's journal, her encounter with Apple Bloom, and now the Darkwraiths had all stifled her mood for the past two days, but now she was smiling again for real, and I welcomed its return.

Granny Smith baked apple fritters for the occasion, using the last of the rationed sugar on the Acres as thanks for what we did. Sunset and I sat with everyone else for lunch, at a picnic table set up by the bonfire. Nobody wanted to address the grim work of clearing the graveyard, so for the moment, it was forgotten, and we all celebrated our victory over the Darkwraiths instead (leaving out Sir Loving Heart's contributions, of course).

It was the merriest scene I had witnessed in a while. Granny Smith and the other old mare held a genial conversation at one end of the table, while a drunken, boisterous Anvil laughed and japed at the other end, annoying his dour cousin, Honest Heart. Crestfallen was quiet, and kept to himself, but smiled throughout the event, and Sunset and Apple Bloom were also enjoying each other's company.

For my part, I spent most of the meal talking with the brown earth stallion sitting opposite me. I'd recognised his Trottingham accent earlier, and was surprised to hear it all the way out here. Evidently, he'd felt the same after hearing me.

"Wonderful!" he said, grinning. "After all this time, a fellow countrypony! I haven't been back to the Griffish Isles since before Gilbert the Conqueror took the north! Please, tell me, how are things going back home?"

"Ah, well... it's a mixed bag. King Ironside rules in New Griffonstone now, and he's turned very anti-changeling as of late. They have an inquisition there now, running them off to the Asylum out of Port Cruelsea."

"My word... I had no idea..." the stallion muttered, looking down at the table.

"The Sunless Realms are doing a lot better, though," I said between bites of apple fritter. "King Vendrick now sits the throne, Celestia save him, and I think he's been a just ruler. He came down hard on piracy, so the coastal towns are much safer now."

"Weren't the Sunless Realms invaded a few years back? I remember hearing about that."

"Yes they were. The Spider Legion wanted to take the Sunless Realms their after Arachnia was overrun. The mad duke of Brightstone Cove even betrayed the kingdom to marry Queen Freja and let them land in his port. Fortunately, Vendrick and his Blue Sentinels put them down before they could do too much damage, and they sent the great spiders fleeing north."

We spent most of the meal after that trading stories of home. I spoke at length about Brittlesworth and Golden Orchards, and he told me about ancient Trottingham, as it was centuries ago before Griffonstone invaded the north. He didn't look particularly old, so I wondered how he could have possibly lived through so much, but he was hardly the only one around who looked far too young for his age. I asked him, and he implied that it was the result of scientific endeavour. Then we got to talking about his science projects.

"Normally, Anvil and I share the barn, you see. I have my workshop in there alongside his forge, and we help each other. Right now, I've moved operations to Ponyville Station while we work on restoring the train. I contribute my skills, and in exchange, I'll get to use it to test one of my secret projects when we're done; I need a way to build up a lot of speed for it to work."

As is Islander custom, we only made introductions at the end of the conversation, after lunch was finished and everyone was leaving the table.

"Well, this has been brilliant," he said as we leaned across the table to shake hooves. "We should meet again for a cup of tea soon. I might still have some stashed away somewhere here."

"Thank you, that would be lovely. I didn't catch your name, sorry?"

"The Doctor."

"Doctor...?"

"Oh, um..." He furrowed his brow and looked at the ground for a moment. "...Turner, I think? I'm sorry, it's been a while since I was called anything other than just the Doctor."

I smiled and shrugged. "Very well, Doctor."

"Forgive me, I didn't catch yours either?"

"Firelink Soul."

Neither of us had ever spoken our names or missed the other's; the mutual apologies were more of a ritual than a necessity.

With our final parting, the Doctor left to go back into town and continue work on the train. The others were already leaving by then. Apple Bloom and Crestfallen rested by the bonfire, Granny Smith and Honest Heart disappeared into the farmhouse wing of the barn, and Anvil returned to his forge. The old yellow mare was the last to leave. She thanked both Sunset and I in a warm, grandmotherly tone, left us a basket of fresh carrots, and then said goodbye and hobbled off towards the barrel house on the hill.

"I'll go put these with our bags," said Sunset, taking the basket.

"Yeah, okay."

Once Sunset was gone, I joined Apple Bloom and Crestfallen by the bonfire, and held out my hooves to warm them. I had taken off my armour after returning from the orchard, and was now beginning to wish that I hadn't; dark days were often cold, and my armour was the closest thing I had to clothing right now. Then again, was covering myself in metal the wisest way to attempt to ward off cold?

Staring into the flames, I heard Anvil's hoofsteps before I saw him. I looked up as he approached the bonfire, still swaying slightly in his drunken state.

"Firelink?" he drawled. "Might Ah have a word with ya?"

I was a little surprised, but still I stood back up and followed Anvil back towards the barn. We stopped midway, the old smith sighing and running a hoof through his bristly grey beard.

"Look... Ah could see how disappointed ya were with me earlier. Ah know, it's a shameful thing, not standing up for my family when those monsters were disgracing 'em. Tomorrow, Ah'm gonna have to go over there and clean up the place myself. Ah can't let Granny and Auntie Bloom do it. Ah won't shirk my duty again. But you and Sunset, ya stepped up when Ah didn't. And Ah wanted to thank you for that myself. It means more than y'can ever know."

"Um... you're welcome?"

We continued towards the barn. He pushed open the doors and stumbled inside, and I followed after. Imp, the crystal lizard mimic thing, was asleep on a workbench when we entered. The little thing woke up, hissed at me, and transformed into a watering can. Anvil ignored it and sat down on his tiny chair beside the forge.

"Ah'll be straight with ya. Smithing is my trade, so Ah don't often offer my services for free. The train restoration is for business. Selling steel to the Way of White is business. But the way Ah see it, you've done a service for me, by standing in for me when Ah should've, and now Ah have to pay."

He leaned over and tapped a hoof on the anvil with the red gem embedded in it.

"This here is a fire smithstone. It was given to my great, great, great, great grandmother by a friend of the Apple Family, and it's been with us ever since. Smiths back in the old days of Equestria, and even before in the time of the Three Tribes, used to enchant weapons with these. Hammer yer steel over them, and it works the spell into the metal, y'see? This one here's real basic, but it's dependable, and Ah charge highly for its use... If Ah didn't, every Chaos Paladin and White crusader in Equestria would have me make them their own flaming swords!"

I blinked, and looked down at the gem.

"It... sets a weapon on fire?"

Anvil grinned.

"Magical fire. Won't blacken the metal none, and only lights in open air. The spell triggers by removing the blade from its scabbard, and cancels by sheathing it again. Which, as it goes, is why Ah refuse to make anything but swords with it. Just ain't common sense to make a weapon that way if the effect can't be turned off."

"That seems like it'd consume a lot of magic."

He shrugged. "Only if ya use it a lot. Keep it in the scabbard, and it's fine. And it can always be charged if need be. You have a horn. Y'can do it y'self."

"Well... that certainly sounds formidable. But I couldn't possibly accept such a gift."

Anvil held up a hoof and shook his head.

"It's no trouble. No different than forging any other sword. Let me give you this. Let me feel like Ah've paid my debts."

I bit my lip and looked at the ground. I still felt like the polite thing to do was decline again and not take advantage of Anvil's generosity, but I couldn't deny the appeal of wielding a magical burning sword. That was like something straight out of a song.

"Well... if you insist..."

"Heheh..." Anvil leaned back in his chair. "Ah'll get started on it tomorrow morn. Would ya rather Ah forge a fresh sword for ya, or spruce up an old one? Former's nicer, latter's quicker."

I considered.

"How long would that take? Forging a fresh new sword?"

"For most swords and most smiths, a week. Smithing's my talent, so Ah'll give you half that for a basic job, but if ya want anything fancy, yeah, it'll take about a week."

"Fancy?"

"Y'know. Decorative hilts, pommels, scabbards, and suchlike. If ya want me to colour the metal or scratch some artwork on or something, that'll take more time."

My first thought was that this sounded pointlessly extravagant. My second thought was that a fiery sword with a dragon or phoenix motif would be the most amazing thing ever. But my third thought was that I already didn't deserve any of this, and that I shouldn't push my luck.

"...Yeah, I don't think I need anything fancy," I said, with some small degree of resignation. "As long as it does the job, right?"

"Eeyup," said Anvil, nodding sagely.

"Just hammer the enchantment into an old sword. It's fine."

"Yours? Or would you like to see my selection?"

That gave me pause as well.

"Let's see what you have."

Anvil lumbered over to one of the piles of crates and barrels in the corner of the room and started sifting through them. I came over and stood beside him while he pulled out a series of weapons, which we went through together. Longswords, shortswords, broadswords, greatswords, he had them all, and those were just the ones that I was conceptually familiar with. Some were curved, like the scimitar and sabre. Some were rapiers and other piercing weapons, designed to punch through mail. A few were just odd.

"What on earth is this?"

"A katana. Eastern design. Ah wouldn't recommend it for one such as y'self. It's for an agile user and a lightly armoured enemy. Not so good for knights."

I threw it back in the barrel.

"Not really my style anyway."

I even found a set of shotels, the curved blades that Sir Loving Heart had used. Apparently they were the trademark weapons of the Embraced Knights of Cadance, who as it turned out were an order specialising in hunting changelings. According to Anvil, their favourite battle tactic was to stab a shotel into a changeling's side, hook them like a fish, and then tear off their chitin in chunks. Now it made sense to me why somepony like Sir Loving Heart was a Cadencian knight.

But it was the larger swords which interested me the most from a combat perspective. With the advantage of magic, the sword's weight and my physical strength were less of a consideration. There was still going to be a little strain if I tried to float anything too big for too long, so I didn't want to get something enormous like Sir Black Iron's greatsword, but bigger was still better.

"This here is a zweihander," said Anvil, producing just such an enormous sword.

"Zweihander... That's a Griffonian tongue for... two-hander?"

"Eeyup. And see these little curved bits sticking out from the sides, a ways down from the hilt? These are parrying hooks. They catch other blades coming down, just like the hilt would do."

"Seems a little redundant, but that's cool, I guess... Why's it called a 'two-hander?'"

Anvil tilted his head at me slightly.

"'Cause... it's meant to be held with two hands?"

"Yeah, about that..."

I wiggled a hoof in front of me.

He rolled his eyes. "Swords ain't meant for ponies. A sword is designed for a species with hands. Minotaurs, gargoyles, centaurs, diamond dogs, those sorts. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a non-unicorn to use these? That's why pegasi prefer wing-blades, and why earth ponies are better off with spears and halberds, or better yet, boots and spurs."

"Why do non-unicorns use swords at all, then?"

"Pirates. A cutlass is relatively light and easier to fight with on a ship than a spear or halberd, even for a pony. Pony pirates used cutlasses, the old Equestrian Navy started teachin' its crews to swordfight in response, and before ya know it, suddenly we're all stuck with 'em. But Ah still say we never had any business using swords in the first place. Except unicorns, of course, 'cause y'all are cheating at life with that fancy magic of yours."

I smirked. "Huh. Learn something new every day..."

We went through several more choices, some of which sorely tempted me, until I found one to my liking.

"This is a bastard sword," said Anvil. "About halfway in length between a longsword and a shortsword. Some call it a hand-and-a-half sword. You don't have hands, so Ah guess that ain't important, but... how'd you feel about the weight?"

"It feels about the same as the claymore... a little lighter, perhaps? It looks lighter. I mean, it's smaller."

"This one good enough?"

"...Yeah. I'd be satisfied by this."

Anvil held out a hoof, and I floated the sword into his grip.

"Ah'll take care of it by morning, as Ah said." He yawned. "For now, Ah've gotta sleep off the drink."

He put the bastard sword aside on a workbench and started extinguishing the oil lanterns. When he was done, he collapsed into a loose pile of hay. I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want to go inside?"

"Ah'm fine here," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Just do me a favour and close up the door for me, would ya?"

"Yeah, sure..."

"Thank ya kindly..."

Just before I left, I had a thought and turned back.

"Will you be offering an enchanted sword to Sunset as well?" I asked.

He yawned again.

"Ehhh... the Phoenix Knight don't need my lowly work..." he mumbled. "She's already got fire in her..."

I did a double take.

"What?" I whispered. "What was that you called her?"

But it was too late. Anvil was already snoring, long and loudly. Given no choice, I simply stepped outside and closed the door behind me, as he asked.

I must have misheard him. It was the only explanation.

The Phoenix Knight was said to be an ancient immortal, one of the original co-founders of the legendary Warriors of Sunlight, along with the Lady of Dusk and the Sisters of the Sea. There was no way that was Sunset. Randomly meeting a legendary hero of that calibre in some dead backwater village like this was surely impossible. That would be like running into the Pontiff of the Way of White in Brittlesworth.

A memory came to me, unbidden.

Ponies needed our help, so we founded the Warriors to do what we could.

It all fit. Sunset was the Phoenix Knight. I slumped on the ground outside the barn, leaning back against the doors as I remembered those words. My head was swimming with the implications.

I'm starting to think that she may be out of my league...





I didn't ask Sunset about what I had learned before going to bed that night. If she didn't want to share that information, I didn't want to press her about it. She had called me a friend a few times now; I could only hope that one day, our friendship would be strong enough for her to feel like she could trust me. Until then, I would keep my silence, and so that's what I did for the rest of the day. I was like Crestfallen now, idly sitting by as Sunset and Apple Bloom conversed, talking about old times that I now realised were probably much longer ago than I first thought.

When I felt tired enough, I slunk away to my straw bed, and sleep took me. Before long, I was in the Fire-Keeper's Dream again, wandering the dreamworld version of Sweet Apple Acres. Once more, it was empty, so I simply sat down at the bonfire and waited for Sir Iron.

I looked around for my red eye orb, but to my dismay, I couldn't find it on my person. I'd gone to sleep with it under my pillow, expecting it to come with me, but apparently it didn't work like that. That made another thing to ask Sir Iron about whenever I saw him.

And just as that thought crossed my mind, there he was sitting beside me.

"I've noticed that our interactions tend to be brief," I said. "Are we going to get cut off after a single conversation again tonight?"

"I told you, time is convoluted in dreams. Often, the night will seem to pass quickly from in here. You aren't fully conscious right now, Firelink. Your mind is in a state of rest. Is it any wonder that you and I are moving slower than the rest of the world?"

"Isn't there anything you can do about it? You're good at this dream stuff."

"I am trying, but I may not succeed. Much depends on you, in a way that you are not yet aware of. This, too, I will teach you if we ever get the chance."

I sighed and drew myself up.

"So, what's tonight's lesson?"

"The Lordseeker's quest, if you wish. Though, I sense your mind may be on other things right now. You've had quite a day. If you wish to talk of those matters instead, then we may do so."

"I appreciate it, Sir Iron, but... I don't need a dream therapist. Answers would help me much more than talking about my feelings would."

Sir Iron nodded, and stood up. "Then let us go."

I stood as well, thinking we were going to walk somewhere, but Sir Iron instead reached out a hoof to the bonfire and bowed his head.

"Hold onto me, and close your eyes."

I tentatively did as I was told, putting a foreleg around the old knight and squeezing my eyes shut. A flash of pink light was visible even through my eyelids, and there was an indescribable, alien sound as I felt a sensation of falling. Still I kept my eyes closed, until eventually my hooves gently settled on solid ground again, and the light went away. I opened my eyes without needing to be told, and let go of Sir Iron to take in my surroundings.

We were in the Shrine of Sunlight.

"This place again?"

Sir Iron cantered off into the ruins without a word. I followed him through the flooded hall with the murals of the alicorns, and glanced at one I had seen before in the waking world, of Celestia and Luna striking down a chimeric beast. Not for the first time, I wondered about this shrine.

We stopped in the middle of the hall. Sir Iron tapped a hoof, and the floor began rumbling and opened in front of us. I stared as all the water drained down into a darkened pit. Was this just dream weirdness? Or was the Fire-Keeper's Dream here reflecting an actual secret in the real world? Sir Iron didn't explain, and instead stepped forward to let himself fall down into the darkness.

I stood on the precipice of the pit for a moment, and gulped. Heights unnerved me. But this was a dream, I reminded myself, and so I took the plunge.

For a while my vision was nothing but black. Then after falling and falling for far too long, my hooves struck the ground. It shocked me, but there was no pain. I looked around in the pitch blackness, and found a fire in the distance, which I galloped towards. It was Sir Iron carrying a torch, waiting for me. I ran up to him. 

"What was that? Where are we?" I asked.

He simply turned away and kept walking. Again I followed. I wanted to question more, but his lack of response made his answer clear:

"Wait and see."

Eventually we did stop, when the light brought us to a great stone door. Sir Iron's torch illuminated it, and just in front of the door was a massive basin with symbols on the rim. Sir Iron lowered his torch to the basin, and it spontaneously burst into pink flame, even with nothing inside to burn. Was it dream logic? Or was it connected to the bonfires?

In the light, I recognised the icons on the basin as being of many different animal species. There was a rearing equine, a winged dragon, a stag, a spider, a griffon, a changeling, a tree with limbs, some kind of horned fish with a trident, and a few others. However, a cluster of three particular icons broke this pattern. Instead of animals, they depicted a golden apple, a perfect black circle, and a complex symbol comprised of a circle, an eight-pointed star, and six hexagonal gemstones, one of which occupied the centre.

I wasn't sure what the significance of any of these symbols were. I looked away from the basin and back to Sir Iron, but he was much more interested in the door.

"They call this the Devil's Door," he said, finally breaking his silence. "Do you know who the Devil is?"

"Uh... like... a hypothetical embodiment of ultimate evil, right?"

"Hmph. Not quite. That's the modern understanding of the concept, but the original term was for a real historical monster. According to the religion which existed in these ancient times, the Devil was a beast who destroyed Paradise, the afterlife of the virtuous dead, and cast out all its angels. Then, the legend goes that he brought about Hell on Earth, until the gods stopped him."

"Umm... okay..."

"You are a skeptic, Firelink, so I do not think I'll shock you by saying that the Way of White has it wrong. The Four were real, but they were not goddesses. They were ponies like you or I. Alicorn princesses, granted, exceptional beings in many ways, but mortal. Yet they made an impression, one long-lasting enough for them to be immortalised and worshipped, and the Way of White were not the first to do this. This ancient religion, with its talk of angels and devils, was the same. It was they that first built the shrine above us, in fact, not the Church that you know."

"Well... that's... good to know?" I said, scratching the back of my neck. "I mean, I kinda suspected, but... this is going somewhere, right?"

He nodded.

"Just like the Way of White, the old church had a mythology based on partial truth. No, the Devil did not destroy Paradise and cast out the angels, nor was he struck down by the might of the gods. But there was a primeval spirit, or a demon, or a monster, known as Discord, who did bring ruin to the kingdom of the alicorns, and drive them from their realm into ours. And it was the alicorn sisters, Celestia and Luna, who ultimately defeated him after he brought his chaos to our world as well. And on this spot, atop the door to Paradise, through which the angels fled to escape the Devil, the first worshippers of the Royal Sisters did build their church."

I stared at him. The revelations about Discord and the alicorn princesses swam in my mind, but another thing took precedent for now.

"...On the other side of this door is... the biblical Heaven? Or... its inspiration? You're telling me that the homeland of the Four is behind here?"

"Mmm, well... two of the Four, anyway. And supposedly, after Discord's first defeat, Celestia and Luna returned to their home, not to repopulate it, but to build something new. I know not what, but it is said that the ancient lords convened there, and over years of gleaning what I could from Frampt and his champions, I believe that... this may be where the source of bonfires was hidden. The Fire of Friendship itself."

"...Of course," I whispered. "All that about darkness gathering, and seeking embers, and souls touched by fire... He wants us to find a way to open that door and reignite the Fire."

"Yes. That is what I believe."

"Well... huh..." I held my forehead. "That's a big duty I'm charged with... and not one that I believe I'm remotely capable of fulfilling. Especially since everyone else who tried in the past several centuries or so seemingly all either gave up or died."

"As I understand it, to open the Devil's Door, one must hold the soul of an ancient lord. This basin here, a conduit between the Fire of Friendship and the bonfires, is also a test. Reach your hoof into the fire in the physical world, and it will burn you, but it is said that an ancient lord will be unharmed, and the way will open for them. Frampt calls it the Lordvessel."

I stared into the flames.

"And what, pray tell, is an 'ancient lord?'"

I'd heard the term before. The Fire-Keeper in Woods' End had said that Equestria was the land of the ancient lords, and that wasn't the first time I'd heard somepony refer to this land as such, but I still didn't know what it actually meant.

"In truth, I do not know, but... have you and I not both heard White followers in these lands call Celestia a Lord of Sunlight?"

My eyes widened.

"...An... alicorn deity?" I whispered. "You're saying... I'd need to bring the soul of a princess to this door? One of the Four?"

Sir Iron shrugged. "Perhaps. I cannot say. Much is shrouded in mystery. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? That's what all the old heroes died on the mountain for. All of us trying to reach Canterlot, all trying to find Celestia, and answers..."

"...'Us?'" I repeated.

"Them."

There was a brief silence.

"...I have told you all I know of Frampt and this door now," said Sir Iron. "There is nothing more to gain here. Let us return."

Again he held out a hoof towards the fire, and I grabbed onto him and closed my eyes as we were swallowed by blinding light and fell through the dream. When we reappeared, we were back above the Shrine of Sunlight, beside the bonfire where we first met. Sir Iron took a seat on the steps, and I did as well.

"I suppose... at least I know what the quest is now. Enough that I know it's impossible."

Sir Iron sighed and bowed his head.

"It is true, none before you have ever succeeded. The Fire of Friendship still dwindles even now. One day, it will fail. The changelings will starve, and go feral or die. Hollows will rise by the millions, and overwhelm the last civilizations in the east, as they did to Griffonstone, Saddle Arabia, and the Dragon Lands. The Fire-Keeper's Dream will disperse, and the Darkwraiths will prey on us all with impunity. The weight of the world rests on these fading flames. One day... it will all come tumbling down..."

"...It's not too late," I said. "Maybe one of Frampt's champions will succeed. I mean, it won't be me, but... somepony like Sunset Shimmer could, I bet."

"Hmm." Sir Iron sat up. "I hold out hope, but the quest breaks so many. You need only look at dear Crestfallen to see that. He lost his nerve for battle and went craven. I think he only still carries that sword with him to remind himself of better times. I myself also failed the quest, though I was not one of Frampt's chosen, and now I confine myself to this land of dreams. At least here, fighting the Darkwraiths, I can still feel as if I'm accomplishing something..."

"...I have to go home, Sir Iron. One way or another. Frampt might have chosen me, but... I certainly never chose this life for myself, and it was never fair of him to ask. I tried to be a hero once myself. I ventured out in search of a lost friend, hoping to rescue him... It didn't end well. I learned my lesson back in the Changeling Asylum. Altruism is the surest path to an early grave."

Sir Iron leaned in, and I felt like he was staring at me through his helmet.

"Then why did you help Sunset?"

I blinked.

"I... she..." I blushed slightly. "She's... special."

That made Sir Iron chuckle.

"Friendship, love, whatever you want to call it, your feelings made you act heroically, risking your own life for the sake of another. I don't think your hero days are behind you, Firelink. I think they're just beginning."

I sat staring at the bonfire a while, contemplating that.

"Well... maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong. We'll see, won't we?"

Just as I said that, I noticed the familiar blurring as the dream started disappearing around me. It was slower than it had been before, and this dream felt like it had lasted the longest of all of my visits, but I was still annoyed by how short it had been. I didn't even have time to ask Sir Iron about my red eye orb. I groaned.

"Take heart," said Sir Iron. "Our time together is lengthening every night. Next time, I may even have the opportunity to teach you my ways."

I gave the old knight a wry smile and stood from my seat.

"I'll hold you to it, Sir Iron."

He nodded to me. I nodded back. And as the last the dream bled away, I walked off into the waking world, ready to face the morning sun.





"What's wrong? Get a bit of scare out there? No problem. Have a seat and get comfortable. We'll both be hollow before you know it."




> Chapter 6: The Legend Never Dies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I awoke on the rising day after my encounter with the Darkwraiths, I was not expecting anything too eventful to occur. The previous day's adventure had already been quite enough for me, and I was looking forward to some quiet relaxation, spending time with Sunset, and getting in some practice with that fiery sword that Anvil had promised me.

Instead, I woke up to a cacophony. The crusaders had arrived, and the cellar where the Apple Family had housed me was already filling up. Several dozen pony Cleric-Knights were settling in and claiming the other beds around the room. Though their weapons, shields and heraldry were often different, they all had the same style of loose-fitting armour with enormous shoulder pads, just like Sir Penance had worn.

I blinked, still half-asleep, and glanced to the bed next to me. Sunset was already gone, same as yesterday. I thought about going to search for her, but I didn't trust all these strange soldiers with my property. Despite the risk of losing my bed, I tiredly put my armour on (minus my helmet, which I was just able to fit into one of my saddlebags), and left the cellar in full gear.

I wasn't prepared for the scale of the encampment above. Up on the surface, the Acres were so densely packed that I could scarcely believe it. Overnight, the Church had set up white and gold tents everywhere, from the formerly open ground around the bonfire, all the way into the orchard, and right over to the barrel house too. Some of them were tiny camping tents, while others were massive, big enough to host a party inside, and sounded as if they were being used for exactly that. Rising plumes of smoke dotted the encampment, coming from the many campfires that small gatherings of crusaders had started.

All around, the crusaders milled about. The majority were Cleric-Knights, either off duty or in full gear. They were mostly equines and griffons, with the occasional changeling. Some held themselves with a dignified, haughty countenance, but others were broken, wounded, and demoralised. I'd heard tales about soldiers who found themselves unable to cope with the realities of war, but some of these people looked haunted. I walked by one who just sat alone on a bench, coat matted with dried blood, staring vacantly at a helmet in his hooves. I could only imagine what he'd been through in that forest. 

Then there were the Chaos Paladins.

To say that they were a bizarre bunch would be understating it. My previous experience with Great Victory and Small Nicety had not begun to prepare me for these people. Every single one of them was their own variety of strange, and I saw plenty of them as I walked around the Acres.

One minotaur bull rolled around in a mud puddle, rubbing his nipples while reciting White holy scripture from memory. Another casually leaned against a tent, looking all cool and serious, except for the fact that he had two sticks of celery stuck up his nose. Around one corner, I ran into a black-and-white-striped pony balancing upright on a wooden crate, preaching the evils of shrubbery gardens and how they all needed to be destroyed, especially King Aspen's garden in Thicket.

Every new sight was weirder than the last. One of the Chaos Paladins was a huge, horned, bovine-looking creature who had dyed himself pink, shaved his back, and tattooed a cactus on himself. Another was an axe-wielding earth stallion who was covered from head to hoof in live snakes. He lumbered about aimlessly, shouting something about "the Great Ones," and when I made direct eye contact with him, he hissed and fled.

These people made themselves obvious, to say the least.

Besides the crowdedness and the Chaos Paladins being weird, the thing that struck me the most about the encampment were the smells. Everywhere I went, something was cooking, either over a campfire or over a barbecue. The Chaos Paladins were roasting everything from marshmallows to cardboard, and one particular group were even cooking a screaming live chicken; I had to cover my ears and run away from that last one before it made me retch. The pony Cleric-Knights, on the other hoof, generally preferred stews and soups, cooked in pots over the campfires. The air was full of their aromas, of the smells of vegetables, spices, and sometimes cooked meats.

I stopped by one campfire where four minotaurs were frying eggs, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Compared to everything else around, this seemed more like a real breakfast, and I was tempted to sit down and join them. But were all the crusaders here sharing their food freely? Or was each campfire host to a specific social group cooking only for themselves? I didn't want to commit a faux pas by presuming entitlement to their food.

Then one of the minotaurs cracked an egg on his forehead and began smearing the yolk over his face, and I realised that these individuals probably didn't even understand what manners were.

I grabbed a plate from a nearby pile, sat down on a tiny wooden chair, and served myself some eggs. None of the host even questioned my presence at first, though one of them looked at me with a raised eyebrow for a second before returning to his food.

As I ate, a fifth minotaur came to join the group, sitting down next to me. He wore two eyepatches, one of which had a hole in it that he could stare at me through. I ignored him at first. But seconds stretched into minutes, and he didn't stop staring, expressionless the whole time. Finally, I put my plate aside and turned to him, meeting his gaze but saying nothing.

"You look like a big pile of ashes," said the double-eyepatch minotaur.

I was taken aback by that, and I think it showed on my face, but still I kept quiet. One of the other minotaurs, the one who'd given me the raised eyebrow earlier, sat up suddenly.

"That's what you reminded me of!" he said, pointing a finger at me. "Yes! Ashes! A big old pile of grey crud, all burnt out! Look at you! You're positively hideous!"

By this point, I realised what they were doing. It was the same as what Victory and Nicety had done. They were attempting to shock a reaction out of me by being random. I wasn't even sure if they really meant the insult or not. It certainly didn't make much sense as an insult. My mane was black and my coat was orange. I looked nothing like ash.

At least I thought so, until looked down at my own hooves and realised how dull my coat was. It was like my colour was bleeding away. Before, my coat had been fiery and alive. Now it looked washed out. The orange was still there, but it was definitely going grey. It reminded me of Carrot Cake. He still had a hint of his original colour, but he was barely holding onto it. And then there were the hollows of Ponyville, who were nothing but grey. I hadn't even realised I looked this bad. Was that how close I was to hollowing?

I screamed internally as I stared at my hooves, but I was determined not to show it to the Chaos Paladins. I slowly looked up, to the bull with the eyepatches. He grinned at me.

Oh, look at me. I'm a Chaos Paladin. I'm so unpredictable. I can say any random combination of words and watch you flounder trying to make sense of me. Aren't I amazing?

Well, two could play at that game.

I kept my face steady and forced myself to appear outwardly calm, just as he had done; it wouldn't do to let him know how much he'd actually gotten to me. Then I leaned over and grabbed the minotaur by the mouth. Now it was his turn to be weirded out, as I wrenched it open to inspect his teeth.

"Why are you not a dentist?" I asked, saying whatever came to mind. "Don't you ever feel like you went wrong in life? Like you should have been crusading against tooth decay, but crusaded against deer instead, and everything spiralled out of control from there?"

The minotaur blinked.

"W-Wha?" he said, not resisting me.

"No, really. Think of how clean your teeth could be. And instead, you're letting the plaque win. Why?"

His single visible eye widened, and he stared at me for a second, agape. I let go of him, dropped back onto all fours, and stepped away. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. I would've smiled if it wouldn't have ruined the effect.

See? I can be an annoying idiot too.

"It can't be..." he whispered.

He stood up and bolted away, running off into the maze of tents.

"The promised time has come!" he screamed. "He is awoken! He is awoken!"

That was weird, but at least he was gone now. I nonchalantly returned to my breakfast, while the other four minotaurs looked at me curiously. The one with egg on his face gave me an approving nod. The other one who had insulted me produced a feathered pillow from somewhere and held it over his own face while he screamed into it. For no apparent reason, the other two each drew nine-tailed whips and began flogging each other bloody. I just ate my eggs and tried to ignore them.

Get on my level, Chaos Paladins.





Chapter 6:
The Legend Never Dies





The bonfire seemed as good a place as any to finally start looking for Sunset, so I navigated the mess of tents as best I could and moved in the general direction of the barn.

Along the way, I passed through numerous other campsites, where there were plenty more strange sights. My favourite was the minotaur skeleton. I found him alone by one campfire, sitting on a rock. He had a spiked wagon wheel lodged in his ribcage, with one arm and one leg on either side of the wheel. When I stopped to look at him, his skull snapped sideways, and his empty sockets glared back at me.

A masculine voice echoed from his skull, even as his jaw remained still.

"What are you looking at, walker?"

"I, um..." I stammered, backing away.

The skeleton rose to his full height. "You came to wrong camp if you didn't want a spooking! Now stand still and let me eat your skin!"

Needless to say, I ran away. He didn't give chase, but he screamed after me as I fled.

"You can't escape your fate forever, you rotting sack of meat! We're all skeletons underneath! The Age of the Skeleton Wheel will come!"

At least the encounter had succinctly answered my question about whether skeletal undead could retain consciousness.

When I finally emerged from the tent maze, there were at least two dozen changelings sitting around the bonfire, as well as changelings in pony form. A few were naked, but most were in Cleric-Knight armour. No sign of Crestfallen's chainmail, though. One of the Cleric-Knight changelings had a guitar, and was playing along as he led the others in a jaunty little song.


"Oh, I'm burn-ing!
Oh, I'm bright!
I am the fi-re!
Shining through the night!
Oh, I'm glow-ing!
Yes, that's right!
I am the fi-re!
I am the light!"


I knew this one. My grandmother also used to sing it. Never liked it much myself. Too corny.

I spotted Apple Bloom's red robes easily in the crowd. She wasn't singing along with them, but she was fairly into it, bobbing her head in time with the music and smiling widely. I waved to her as I approached, and she waved back and rose from her seat. The changelings shifted to make way for her as she came over to me.

"Mornin', Firelink," she said.

"Good morning. This place seems busy today."

"Yeah. The second wave arrived last night as the first returned. They brought all this with them. Ah think they're gonna set up a permanent encampment here now for the duration."

"That'll be... interesting."

"Sure will. By the way, Sunset wanted me to pass along a message if Ah saw ya. She's leaving later today, and she wanted to see ya again before she went."

Leaving?

The news struck a blow, but I knew it shouldn't have. Obviously she had her own goals to pursue. Even before I found out that she was the legendary Phoenix Knight, I'd known that she was on her own quest. And I was still trying to make my own way back home. It was inevitable that we would part eventually, but I just hadn't been expecting it so soon.

"Oh... Thank you. Do you... know where I could find her?"

"She went to find the command tent on the other side of the camp. Wanted to talk with the Church bigwigs. But she'll be back at the house again later."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does she want with the crusade leaders?"

"That Ah don't know, but she's gotten herself an audience with Sir Daybright, at least."

So, that was Sir Daybright representing the Cleric-Knights, and Father Honest Heart for the Pardoners of Luna. There were allegedly Blades of the Darkmoon along on the crusade as well, who were subservient to the Pardoners, though I hadn't actually seen any yet. That was already three of the Church's holy sections present. And of course, Sir Loving Heart and Sister Pilgrimage were also around, so the Embraced Knights of Cadance and the Sisters of Solace were technically present too. Between all of them and the Chaos Paladins, the crusaders were a diverse bunch.

Not for the first time, I wondered what exactly the deer had done to warrant the anger of so many people.

"Well... I'll be sure to see her at first opportunity, then."

Apple Bloom nodded.

"By the way, Anvil also wanted me to say, he's already started work on the blade, an' you can pick it up whenever he's done. Should be short work, he says. In fact, Ah think he may be done already; this was several hours ago."

"Oh good. I'll go see him now. Thanks again."

Because it was impossible to go five steps without running into a Chaos Paladin doing something bizarre, I was of course stopped before I got to Anvil's forge. The barn doors were closed anyway, but a group of minotaurs, cattle, and ponies in various states of bizarre dress had set up an art class immediately in front of them. A stallion with a bag over his face was demonstrating clay sculpting to his students.

My eyes locked onto the teacher's sculpture, and I gave a light gasp when I realised that I knew its subject. It was the chimera from the Shrine of Sunlight's murals, the one that Celestia and Luna were striking down.

Discord, I realised. The Devil who destroyed Paradise.

The art teacher noticed my gawping and waved.

"Hello there!" he said in a cheerful tone. "Come and join us, pilgrim! Learn artistic expression with us, for creativity is the purest form of chaos! We are sculpting the image of the Father of Demons, but you may realise any vision you wish!"

If the name "Father of Demons" implied what I thought it did about Discord, then I had no idea why anybody would want to worship him as the Chaos Paladins did. Every new thing I learned about Discord just made him sound more evil, and more thoroughly convinced me that his followers were all insane.

"Uh... no thank you. I was just passing through."

The art teacher shrugged. "Okay. Walk in chaos, brother!"

If Anvil was inside his forge, then he was trapped in there until the art class left. That in mind, my best hope for finding him was to go knock on the farmhouse door, so I did so. Unlike in my dreams, somepony answered. The door opened a crack, and Granny Smith peeked out.

"Sir Firelink?" she said. "Y'here for Anvil, right?"

"Um, yes, but I'm not a kni—"

"Wait here."

The door slammed shut again, and I was left waiting. A minotaur came over, uninvited, and started rubbing my shoulders, but I shooed him away before Granny Smith returned. Anvil was with her this time, carrying the bastard sword I'd picked out yesterday in its scabbard. Granny Smith shut the door on him as soon as he stepped outside.

"What's her deal today?" I asked.

Anvil sighed. "The Chaos Paladins ain't the most well-behaved, as you may have noticed. Granny don't like to leave the doors unlocked when they're around; they get up to all sorts of mischief."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Heh." He held out the scabbard before me. "Well, here it is. As promised."

"You're a fast worker."

"A cutie mark is a wonderous thing."

I gripped it with my magic, and lifted it into the air. Anvil stepped back. Grabbing the sword by the hilt, I slowly removed it from the scabbard, and the blade was instantly set ablaze. It roared to life, red and yellow and orange, as the flames danced along its length. After the initial flare, they died down again, crackling away quietly. But the fire remained bright, and warmth radiated from it.

"It's beautiful..." I said, mesmerised.

The fire reflected in Anvil's eyes as he looked at me.

"This here... Ah won't pretend it's my best, but it's dependable. You take care of that sword, and it'll carry you far. The nice thing about weapons is that they never betray you."

I sheathed my new sword, and hung its scabbard on my right side as I removed my old one. Trixie's broadsword wasn't anything special, but as I held it before me, I considered Anvil's words. After thinking on it, I put the broadsword on my left side. I didn't expect I'd ever fight with two swords at once like that Darkwraith had done, but it was good to have a backup, and the sword was light enough compared to my armour that the extra weight was negligible.

"The best weapons all have names, you know," said Anvil. "Some say it's presumptive to name a weapon that hasn't yet drawn blood, but... I prefer to think of it as lucky."

I drew the bastard sword again, and gave it a swish, feeling how its weight parted the air. It was a good sword. It seemed deserving of a name.

"...Brightflame," I said, tasting the name on my tongue.

Anvil nodded his approval as I sheathed it once more.

"Thank you, Anvil. I'll treasure it always."

"All Ah ask is that ya use it well, friend. Wherever you go once you move on from here, whatever may come, you stay safe. Ya hear me? Neither of us wants to see you go hollow."

I cleared my throat. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Nothing more to say, is there?"

I smiled, and he smiled back.

"Well... thanks again, Anvil. For everything. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Eeyup. Take care, Firelink."

After we parted ways, I soon realised that I didn't really have anything else to do. Short of finding Sunset at the command tent, which was easier said than done in a camp this unorganised, there was nothing else for it but to wander about and see what was going on.

Let's see what new adventures await me, then.





"You sound a fool!" said a minotaur with a goat on his shoulders, laughing. "Sir Daybright. Ha! The Legend could wipe the floor with your Sir Daybright! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to levitate objects with chaos magic? And he uses it to fight with a greatsword!"

The goat bleated in agreement.

"It's not about magical power," said a smiling Cleric-Knight stallion. "If it were, they'd call the Lady of Dusk the greatest warrior of our age. Swordwork is what matters, magical or otherwise. True, Sir Daybright is no great mage like your Legend, but he has discipline, skill, and the strength to go with it. It's not just any knight that can wield Grant and Sanctus. Sir Daybright is a top-tier fighter."

I'd joined another campfire group after a little more wandering. This one in particular had caught my interest because of its rare display of camaraderie between Chaos Paladins and Cleric-Knights. The White followers at this fire were much less dour than the others, and freely shared food, drink, and conversation with a trio of minotaurs. They were all very cheery, joking and laughing and having pointless arguments like this one.

"Look, I'm proud of our glorious leader too, but let's not exaggerate," said a Cleric-Knight mare. "I mean, he's good, but he's no Warrior of Sunlight or anything."

"He's still definitely better than the Legend."

The minotaur with the goat on his shoulders gave a derisive snort. "The Legend once killed four Darkwraiths by himself. Can Sir Daybright claim the same?"

The smiling stallion rolled his eyes. "Likely story."

"It's true," said another of the minotaurs, a musclebound one with red fur. "It's one of his most famous feats."

"Uh-huh. And how, exactly, did he defeat multiple Darkwraiths alone? Do you even know what a Darkwraith is? They're super strong, super fast, and super durable. They are, in fact, the sole reason why the Equestrian midlands are so depopulated. All the great heroes and all the military might of old Equestria couldn't stop them. Only the holy bonfires work. So how, pray tell, does some masked maniac with a greatsword succeed where the kingdom of the gods failed?"

Well, that was definitely an exaggeration. Killing Darkwraiths couldn't be that difficult if I could do it.

The minotaurs smirked.

"You buy too much into their mystique," said the one with the goat. "Darkwraiths may fool you into thinking otherwise, but they are mortal. Stab them, and they die. They're just people who have more power than we do. Same as the Warriors of Sunlight. Same as your Sir Daybright. Same as the Legend. In fact, there are factions of the Chaos Paladins who believe that there are no gods, not even Discord himself. Only power and those who would wield it."

"I'm sure the gods would disagree quite strongly about that."

"Then let them voice it! But even you would not argue that the Darkwraiths are gods. Impervious, Sir Red Rose, the Knightslayer, these are all names we fear, but Darkwraiths bleed just as we do. I've seen it. And trust me, there are names the Dark fears, too."

I wondered to myself if Sir Black Iron was among those names.

More than that, though, I wondered about just how powerful the Darkwraiths were. To hear the Cleric-Knights speak of them, they were monsters of legend, ancient evils, so much more powerful than regular ponies that the very idea of one guy killing four of them was immediately dismissed. And Sunset was one of the greatest heroes to ever live, and she'd only been doing moderately well against one of them, albeit at a disadvantage with her lack of either a shield or a second sword.

And yet, I saw more truth in what the Chaos Paladins were saying. Yes, the mute had come off like a menacing ancient evil, but the vandal had just seemed like an idiot with a big mouth. And Sunset may have been a great hero famed for her skills, but Sir Loving Heart was just some creepy guy we came across by chance, and he'd held his own too, even with a terrible choice of weapons for taking on armoured opponents. So had I, for that matter, though mostly because my equipment was better and neither Darkwraith had really cared about me.

It could happen again, I knew. One day, maybe I'd find myself alone against a Darkwraith. What would I do then? Was it true what the Chaos Paladins said, that anyone could rise to the challenge and face superequine threats alone with only their own skill and wits? And even if it was, could I ever be capable of such a feat? Or would I be better off just running?

...Actually, why was I questioning this? Of course it was better to run.

I broke away from the group and continued through the tent maze. Across the encampment, the big marquee tents were the tallest and easiest to see, and I was sure that one of them had to house the crusade's high command. Which one, I wasn't sure, but I went over to the closest one anyway to see if that was it.

The tent I walked into turned out to be a small marketplace instead. Tables and stalls were set out in the middle of the tent and around the edges. Some were stocked with weapons and armour made for a number of species. Many more were serving food and drink. There was a makeshift bar, a table full of vegetables, a butcher's stall filled with skinned animals for the more carnivorous crusaders, and at a few tables, some Chaos Paladins were even gambling on cards, or offering to tell the future through a crystal ball.

I was stopped at one stall by a bearded diamond dog merchant. His face was entirely covered by an odd, bell-shaped helmet, which instead of a visor had five vertical slits that formed a seashell shape.

"Pony!" he said in a deep, powerful voice. "You want deal? Gravel give many deal. With Gravel, you wheel? You deal."

"No thank you. I'm just passing through."

The dog called Gravel reached below and pulled out a sack of gold coins, which spilled slightly on the table as he threw it down in front of me.

"Gravel sell money."

He's a Chaos Paladin. Don't fall for it. He wants you to take the bait.

But I couldn't help myself.

"Sell... money? You mean you buy things?"

He nodded. "Gravel wheel, Gravel deal."

"Okay... I don't have anything to sell, though."

He nodded again, slower this time, and took back the sack of coins.

"That okay. You, go home. When ready for deal, Gravel give deal."

I nodded amiably and turned to leave, only to run straight into the skeletal minotaur with the wagon wheel from earlier.

"What the hell do you want?" he shouted in that echoey voice, giving me that same eyeless glare from before.

"Nothing!" I said, backing off.

"Vamos!" cried Gravel. "Old friend! Haha! Vamos have wheel? Gravel have deal!"

The skeleton hefted a burlap sack and emptied a pile of swords onto the table.

"The best I could do on short notice," said Vamos. "I'm not too good away from my home forge, but I made do. Would be better if I could've gotten a smithstone."

"Haha! Many deal! Many thanks!"

Gravel pulled out the sack of money again, and began counting coins. I stared at the both of them, and Vamos turned to me again.

"Fleshy, if you keep staring at me, I am going shred your skin off. I have a need for speed and you are looking a lot like a dirt road right now."

"Y-Yeah?" I said, trying to call up the same bravado I'd used with Sunset in the orchard. "I'd like to see you try, rattlewheel!"

He pointed a bony finger at me. "Oh, you did it this time. It's on now. Meet me at the arena outside in ten minutes. You're getting taken to the bone zone, son."

There's an arena? ...Wait, I'm actually going to have to fight him?

I should've expected as much, but I was counting on his threats being a bluff. Every other Chaos Paladin just seemed to want to get a reaction out of me, but Vamos was actually being serious. I guess I deserved this for thinking that chaos was predictable.

Nevertheless, I put on a brave face for my opponent. "Fine. Just point me to it."

Taking Vamos's direction, I went over to the far side of the marquee tent, and came outside through a different entrance than the one I'd come in through. As promised, I emerged not into another cluster of tents and campfires, but instead into an open area where a crowd of Chaos Paladins and Cleric-Knights had gathered in a circle. The sounds of clanging metal and cheering filled the air, but I couldn't see into the middle of the ring because of how tall some of the spectators were. The minotaurs and the huge hairy bovines in particular blocked any view I might've had.

I wriggled my way through the crowd, trying to get close, and stopped near enough to the front row that I could see over some other ponies' shoulders.

The crowd cheered as a burly minotaur in the centre of the arena smashed a griffon's face in with a hammer. He raised it above him and slammed it down, mulching his head and splattering red all over the audience. They went wild. I stared in disbelief as a piece of brain matter slid down the victor's cheek.

"We have a winner!" shouted a pegasus, waving a white flag. "The duel goes to Bloodskull the Mighty!"

The minotaur roared. "Bloodskull's mother was saint! Never insult! Or Bloodskull smash and destroy!"

The announcer chuckled and patted his shoulder with a wing.

"Okay there, big guy! Thanks for playing!"

Bloodskull stomped off, the crowd parting to let him through. I looked at the arena itself for the first time, which was really just an open space ringed by a painted white line, and marvelled at the amount of blood stains on the floor, both dry and fresh. Another minotaur came in from the side of the arena to drag away the griffon's corpse, the crowd again parting to let him through.

"Ooh, he'll feel that when he revives, won't he, folks?" said the announcer, getting a round of laughs out of the crowd.

Oh. He's undead. I guess that makes this slightly... no. No, it's still messed up.

There was also another figure by the side of the arena with the clean-up guy. It was a Blade of the Darkmoon, garbed in the signature black robes of his order, a mask covering all but his eyes. I could only assume that the Darkmoons were here to police the other crusaders and make sure that things didn't get too out of hoof between the Cleric-Knights and the Chaos Paladins. But they had allowed this arena to spring up, and that griffon had just gotten his head smashed in, so clearly they weren't doing a very good job.

"So, who else? Hmm? Any other undead got some grievances to air? Come oooooooon! Put on a show for the rest of us!"

There was a shuffling in the crowd behind me, and noises of disturbance. I whipped around as Vamos came up behind and shoved me out into the arena. I landed face-first in the dirt.

"I've got some!" he declared. "This stallion here is a miserable waste of skin, and I want to take it off him and wear it as a suit!"

I climbed to my hooves and spat on the ground, glaring back at the skeleton.

"Ooooh!" said the announcer. "Now this is a good one! Vamos the Wheelmaker is stepping into the ring, folks!"

The pegasus fluttered over to my side, and put a wing around me.

"And what's your name, friend?"

I kept eye contact with my opponent.

"Firelink. The Wheelbreaker."

The crowd ooohed, and Vamos looked around at them, as if silently promising that they'd be next.

"Weh-h-hell! What a serendipitous meeting! You hear that, my fellow crusaders? This right here? This was destiny! Come on, folks. Let's step back for another duel, and see those sparks fly!"

Vamos cracked his knuckles and his neck. I removed my helmet from my bag and put it on. As we stared each other down, Vamos reluctantly bowed, so I did the same.

The announcer backed off to the side of the arena.

"Three! Two! One! Go!"

I drew Brightflame for its first battle, and my shield too. The crowd's cheers became more fervent the instant the blade ignited.

Vamos backed away for half a second, but then lunged forward at me. He dived to the ground, curling up his limbs into the wagon wheel, and rolled along on it at an alarming speed. I dodged to the side, just barely missing the razor-sharp spikes, and again the crowd went wild. Vamos reached the edge of the arena, coming dangerously close to hitting the spectators, some of whom cringed away. But his legs popped out in time and dug into the ground, causing him to skid to a halt before any harm was done. He immediately pivoted about and spun towards me again.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

The side-step was cutting it too close, so this time I leapt aside and rolled out of his way, just as I'd done in my fight in Ponyville when I'd lost my armour. Surprisingly, the weight didn't hamper my ability to roll as much as I thought it would, though it was still slower and heavier than was ideal.

Vamos turned around again. This time he ran towards me on two legs and threw a bony punch, but I ducked under it and rolled away once more. Then he raised a foot and kicked me in the front. The impact staggered me, and forced out a grunt of pain, but I raised my bastard sword and prepared for a counterattack. He saw it coming and tried to catch it in his hands, but I swung low and cleaved right through his shinbone. Vamos collapsed, to the joy of the crowd.

"Oof!" he cried.

I smiled under my helmet, and circled the fallen skeleton.

"Those bones of yours are pretty brittle, mister! Better up your calcium intake!"

The crowd laughed. In response, Vamos leapt up onto his good leg, twirled around midair, and kicked me in the head with his broken one. I went down, and then they laughed again.

At least they don't discriminate.

I got up as quick as I could, but by then, Vamos was already rolling towards me on his wheel again. This time, I didn't have time to dodge. Instead, I maneuvered my shield in front of me to block him.

Vamos didn't stop. The shield halted his forward progress, but he kept on rolling into it, the spikes on his wheel grinding away at my shield and kicking up dust beneath us. Sparks literally did start flying after a few seconds. My eyes widened, and I stepped aside and removed the shield from his path, letting Vamos speed past. He reached out with an arm as I let him go by, and smacked me in the head again.

"Argh!"

He reached the far side of the arena, and turned to face me.

"When I kill you, I'm going to take that sword of yours and burn all your flesh off with it! And once I'm done with that, we're taking you to get fitted for a wheel."

This is the most surreal experience of my life.

I floated Brightflame over to me.

"And when I kill you, I'm going to make you into a spooky lawn decoration!"

He rolled forward. I readied my bastard sword. As the wheel of spikes advanced on me, I pulled back and then swung forward, simultaneously dodging to the side. Brightflame embedded in the wood of the wagon wheel, and Vamos dragged it away along with him as he rolled past. I lost my magical grip on the sword, but I wasn't too worried. Vamos had no magic. I could easily get it back.

The wagon wheel caught fire, charring the wood and blackening the metal spikes. It spread much quicker than I expected. At first, I thought this was good. Unfortunately, I failed to account for the fact that a being with no skin didn't fear burning to death.

"Ohoho! You've done it now, fleshy!"

Vamos grabbed the fiery sword in hand, and spun towards me again. This time, I had to avoid a flaming spiky wheel of death, and Vamos also swung at me with Brightflame as he passed by. I grabbed it out of his hand with my magic, of course, but I only narrowly escaped. Already, I was getting breathless. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to be dodge-rolling all over the place in a full suit of armour.

He went for another pass. I couldn't let this go on for any longer. I had to end this.

What flames had caught on his wheel were already dying down from the rapid motion, and I didn't want to fan them any further. After another quick dodge, I hastily sheathed Brightflame, and drew Trixie's broadsword from my other scabbard instead.

Here we go.

Vamos rolled again. This time, I stood my ground. I floated my shield in front of me, blocking his advance just as before. But this time, I struck Vamos from the side with the broadsword, throwing all my strength into the swing. The blade crashed through his wheel, cleaving apart the charred wooden spokes in the middle. Vamos fell out of his wheel as it came loose from his ribcage.

"No!" he screamed. "Nooooo!"

I grabbed the wheel and tossed it aside. Then I brought the sword down on his ribcage, breaking every bone I struck. I literally shattered him to pieces with one swing. Vamos let out a long, agonised scream, making me wince. I wasn't even sure how he felt pain without nerves. Somehow, I also decapitated him. His skull separated from the rest of his body, intact, and rolled away across the dirt.

This, it turned out, did not kill Vamos, whose skull just kept groaning in pain. In hindsight, I realised that it was smashing the skull that had allowed me to finish off the black knight as well. I wondered, since regular undead didn't heal unless killed, would he just remain a disembodied skull forever if I didn't finish him?

I briefly entertained the bizarre thought of stuffing Vamos into my bag and carrying him around with me, like a pet, only one who would constantly threaten to eat my skin. I don't know where the thought came from, but it made me laugh out loud. I may have looked psychotic to the audience, but I think they liked that anyway, because they all erupted into the loudest round of cheers yet.

I removed my helmet, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Woah!" said the announcer. "Did you just see what I saw, folks? I think that match just went to the Wheelbreaker! Let's hear it for Firelink!"

I smirked at that, and slowly turned in place to soak in the crowd. I wasn't sure if I'd gone mad or if I was just having an adrenaline high, but I was enjoying the moment. To really punctuate my victory, I floated the wagon wheel over and laid a hoof on it. I'd really gotten into the spirit of things since the start of the day. Maybe this was why people followed Discord.

"The Age of Wheels is over!" I said dramatically, drawing Trixie's broadsword and raising it above me. "Now begins the Age of Walking!"

I swung down and shattered the wagon wheel into pieces, just as I'd done to Vamos himself. The crowd went absolutely insane. Vamos just groaned again.

I would've been a great Chaos Paladin, I thought as I basked in their adoration.

Then a voice cut through the crowd.

"It's him!"

A minotaur pushed everyone aside and ran out into the arena. It took me a second to realise where I knew him from. It was the guy with the double eyepatches who'd ran off while I was eating breakfast. The crowd's enthusiasm died down a bit as he ran over and threw himself at my hooves. I balked as he wrapped his arms around me and began crying.

"It's you, isn't it?" he said. "You're him, aren't you? Tell me! I must know for sure!"

"Uh... am I... who?"

The minotaur gasped. "He is ignorant to his identity! Just as the legends foretold!"

"What?"

I yelped, as the stranger suddenly grabbed me by the forehooves and threw me into the air. I landed atop his shoulders when I came down again, startled by the action.

"He is come!" my captor proclaimed. "Pony, is pony of prophecy!"

The crowd cheered again.

"Wait, what?" I said, dazed.

The fight announcer flew over to me next, grabbing one of my forehooves and lifting it skyward.

"He is come!" he agreed. "The end of wheels confirms it! All hail Firelink, the Lord of Cinder!"

"Firelink! Firelink! Firelink!" the crowd chanted.

This was getting out of control. I ripped my hoof out of the announcer's hold and bellowed to the crowd.

"Okay, as your new lord, I command you all to stop!"

The crowd did stop chanting, but they didn't go quiet. Instead, they all started mumbling amongst themselves. I briefly looked to the side of the arena, at the Blade of the Darkmoon, who was giving me a wide-eyed look and rapidly shaking his head. I instantly knew that I had screwed up.

A minotaur burst out from the crowd and into the arena.

"Command?" he said, pointing an accusing finger at me. "That sounds like an order!"

"He is unworthy!" cried someone else from within the crowd.

"Eat his skin!" said Vamos.

"Revolución!"

Double Eyepatches threw me on the ground behind him and picked up a hammer.

"Paladins!" he roared. "Defend your lord! Crush them!"

The Blade of the Darkmoon and the fight announcer came to my defence as well. Weapons were drawn, warcries were made, and the Chaos Paladins began massacring one another as the Cleric-Knights fled.

From my place directly in the middle of this orgy of violence, I had no idea what was even going on. I was sure that half of the rioters didn't even know which side they were on, and just started fighting whoever was closest. Most of them had axes and swords, but one Chaos Paladin near me was being strangled from behind by a rope of colourful handkerchiefs, and a minotaur in the middle of the battle was breaking pots over people's heads.

I shrieked as a severed arm went flying past me, and ran for the edge of the crowd. I weaved around a changeling with elongated legs as he spat venom over his opponents, and narrowly dodged an axe strike from a minotaur dressed as a clown. Two identical twin stallions rolled past me, biting and kicking and punching at each other while screaming about this being their final battle. A tiny pegasus with gossamer wings, literally the size of an insect, landed on my shoulder and pricked me in the neck with a needle-sized sword.

"For Alfheim!" he shouted in a squeaky voice.

I swatted him without even thinking, and kept darting through the riot. I dodged and weaved around the ones going for me, and crawled beneath the notice of the larger combatants, until eventually I was able to slip away and escape the crowd.

Once I was away from the battle, I looked back, and stood in shock as I watched them all kill each other over nothing. I decided then and there that I wanted nothing more to do with the Chaos Paladins. For a moment there, I had come dangerously close to understanding these people, but I knew now that that was the path to madness. This was exactly what I should have expected from literal Devil-worshippers, and I had no idea why I had even stayed with them for this long. Celestia only knew why the Way of White of all people tolerated this.

After stopping briefly to make sure that I still had my bags and weapons, which I did, I fled through the maze of tents as fast I could. The more distance I put between myself and this, the better.





The traumatising experience of the arena left me wanting to go back to my bed in the cellar, so that I could crawl up into it and sleep until the crusade was over, or at least until Anvil and his crew fixed the train. But I was no safer there than I was anywhere else, so I pressed on instead. One of these big tents, I was sure, housed the crusade high command. It had to. That's what kings and lords and high-ranking churchfolk did – surround themselves with luxury.

More than a few of them were just more marketplaces, which I quickly left before I ran into any more Chaos Paladins than I wanted to. But eventually, I found what I was looking for. It was actually a relatively small tent, but I could tell that it was important by the fact that it was guarded by two Darkmoon knights.

I wasn't sure how I was going to get past them. My armour wasn't regulation for any of the Church's holy knight orders, and even if they mistook me for a Chaos Paladin, I doubted that would get me past. If anything, I was sure that impersonating a Chaos Paladin would make them less likely to admit me. Still, Sunset had supposedly gained audience. Maybe I just had to talk them into it.

I strolled up to the two guards, puffing up my chest and looking as professional and respectable as I possibly could.

"Excuse me, sirs, is this the high command?"

The Darkmoons looked at each other.

"It is," said one.

"I'm looking for Sir Lady Sunset Shimmer. I was told she came here. Has she left already?"

"No, Sir Knight. She is still inside."

I didn't correct him about my knightliness. If they thought I was a knight, then all the better for my credibility.

"Ah, good. May I please enter? I have a message for her."

"Concerning what?" said the other Darkmoon.

"It is a private matter."

"Could we take a name, at least?" asked the first.

"...Sir Firelink Soul," I said.

The first Darkmoon disappeared without a word, leaving me with the other guard. I waited silently for two minutes, tapping my hoof towards the end, until he eventually came back.

"You may enter."

I bowed. "Thank you, sirs."

The inside of the tent was about what I expected. A round table occupied the middle of the room, with a map of what I could only assume was the Everfree Forest laid out in the middle of it. Wine casks and crates were piled in one corner, and around the others were book cases, feather beds, and an assortment of weapon racks and armour stands. Unlit oil lanterns hung from the tent's supports, and plastic sheets covered the ground beneath my hooves. There were seven other ponies in the tent. Sunset was one of them, dressed in her usual gear and flashing me an uneasy smile. The rest were all churchfolk, each from a different holy order.

Honest Heart was there from the Pardoners of Luna, with another Darkmoon guarding him. From the Cleric-Knights was a smiling stallion with a golden coat and white mane, who wasn't in armour right now, but who couldn't have been anypony other than Sir Daybright. There was also a nun of the Sisters of Solace, who unfortunately was not Sister Pilgrimage, and a scholar of the reclusive Twilight Acolytes, wielding a trident and clad in purple robes with a strange, six-eyed great helm.

The final pony was the most important. His white robes and his necklace bearing symbols of all four goddesses marked him as a White Bishop, one of the Church's regional heads, which probably meant that he was the one in charge here. He was also enormously fat, with a bloated gut, thick legs, and pudgy cheeks that made his bald head look like a ball of dough. This stallion wasn't just overweight. He was morbidly obese. The fact that he could even stand was surely nothing short of a miracle.

My incredulous gaze lingered on the fat bishop for perhaps a second longer than was polite, before I tore it away and refocused my attention.

"Sunset," I said. "I looked for you."

"I was here. What is it? They said you had a message?"

I cleared my throat. I realised then that I didn't really have any reason to be there. I'd just been trying to catch up with her to speak before the day was out and she had to leave, but instead I'd walked in on all these important people, and for what? Was I really this hopeless?

"...More like replying to your message, but, more than that... Apple Bloom said that you were meeting with the high command... Is this... about Sir Loving Heart?"

I'd only just made the connection myself while trying to improvise a reason for being here, but now that I'd thought of it, I was genuinely curious. And it seemed my intuition was right.

"About the murderer," said Honest Heart, teeth clenched. "The one who you two let go, and who your friend here now wants to protect."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "I'm just here to make sure that the stallion gets an unbiased investigation and a fair trial."

Honest Heart huffed.

"So you keep saying, only that seems to translate into making vile and unwarranted aspersions on my character. My grandmother bears you love, Sir Lady Shimmer, and I cannot fathom why, but for her honour, I promise you amnesty for this, and forgiveness in the eyes of the gods, if only you cease this folly and return to your journey. Sir Loving Heart is as guilty as sin itself. Of this, I am certain beyond all doubt."

"Not of what you accused him of." Sunset turned to me. "Firelink, it's good that you're here. Do you have the other red eye orb still?"

I reached into my bags and produced it as she asked.

"There!" said Sunset. "Just as I said, just as shown. If you're wrong about him being a Darkwraith, you can be wrong about the rest. Can't you?"

I cleared my throat.

"Listen, everypony... she's right. From what I've seen of him, I deeply dislike the stallion, but Sunset speaks the truth. I think Sir Loving Heart is innocent of at least some of the accusations."

To be honest, I wasn't as sure as Sunset was about Sir Loving Heart's innocence. I certainly wouldn't have ever independently sought out the crusade's high command to argue on his behalf. But a fair trial was his right. Even if Sir Loving Heart was indeed found guilty and sentenced to death, I wanted it to at least be for the right reasons.

"Mmmmmmmm, a compelling case," said the bishop in an effeminate voice. "It bears considering, at least."

"My lord!" said Honest Heart. "If my honesty on the matter of Sir Loving Heart is in any way in doubt, I would consider it a most grievous offence! On my very honour as a Pardoner, may Luna strike me down in my dreams if I utter anything but the truth to you on this!"

"Hmmmmmmmmmm... Your dedication is noted, Father Honest... Yet, I cannot deny a proper investigation into the matter... We must be fair, to all of the gods' subjects, after all... I'm sure a properly conducted trial will still find Sir Loving Heart guilty, if you are so sure of it... Mmmm..."

"That is all I ask," said Sunset, smiling at the bishop.

"Of course, of course," he said, waving her off. "Let it not be said that I am not generous..."

Sir Daybright smiled. Even his teeth were shiny.

"As if that were ever in doubt, my lord," he said.

"Oho. Quite, quite... Now, unless there was anything else...?"

I briefly considered interjecting. I was in the presence of some very powerful ponies here, and I didn't doubt that they would be able to arrange passage back home for me if they were so inclined. What stopped me wasn't just that they had no reason to go out of their way to help me when they had their own problems, but also that the Way of White's view of undead was muddled at best.

Sure, there were apparently undead Chaos Paladins on the crusade, but I was not a Chaos Paladin, and so was not protected by whatever agreement the two sides had. For all I knew, Sir Daybright or this fat bishop might have ordered my execution on the spot if they'd seen my darksign.

"No, that was all," said Sunset. "Thank you all for granting me audience."

"You were a most welcome sight, Sir Lady," said Sir Daybright. "Do call in again if anything else arises. I'm sure the bishop and I can accommodate."

"Quite," said the fat bishop again, before yawning and turning to the Twilight Acolyte. "Brother Sullen, fetch my ointments please... I feel most lethargic..."

Sunset and I left before we had the privilege of watching the bishop get rubbed down by a Twilightian monk, but the outside of the tent was no less nauseating. The Chaos Paladin riot in the distance was seemingly only getting worse. Even this far away one could hear the sounds of them fighting, and now there was a thick black plume of smoke rising from where the arena once was. Sunset raised a confused eyebrow.

"What in Equestria is going on over there?" she asked.

"Nothing!" I said. "It's nothing! Chaos Paladins are weird. Avoid at all costs."

"I won't argue with that," Sunset muttered. "So, want to head back to the house?"

"After you."





The small wing attached to the side of the barn, and the upper floor of the barn itself, were the Apple Family's living areas. It was a fairly dense living space, and a busy one too, even with most of the family out. Anvil had apparently left to go back to his forge, and Apple Bloom and Honest Heart were still out, but most of the other regulars were there. Granny Smith was boiling turnips in the kitchen. Crestfallen was sitting at a table, counting a chest of gold coins and making a tally. Even the Doctor was there, conversing in the living room over a cup of tea with a stallion that I hadn't seen before.

He looked over to us as Sunset and I entered, and broke into a grin.

"Ah! Firelink, Sir Lady Shimmer, good morning! Come sit with us. I'd like you meet Sir Onion Soup. He runs protection for Anvil and myself while we repair the train."

Sir Onion Soup rose to hold out a hoof. He was a plump stallion with a round face, but not nearly so far gone as the bishop. He had a distinguished look about him, bearing a thick but well-groomed moustache, and a monocle over one eye, in the style of Trottingham nobility. His coat was a faded brown, and his mane and facial hair were going white, but it didn't look like a result of age. I put him at around forty or so.

"Pleasure," I said, grasping his hoof.

"No, please, it's all mine," said Sir Onion with a modest smile, before turning to Sunset. "And you, my lady. I most deeply apologise for my failure to come to your aid yesterday."

He even spoke like nobility, all fancy and posh. But it wasn't a Trottingham accent. I couldn't define the quality exactly, but it was very subtly different.

Sunset and I took seats opposite the two.

"Your name is familiar," I said. "I think the Doctor said yesterday that you were waiting to revive?"

"Oho, yes. Quite the embarrassment, that... An unruly Chaos Paladin warband on their way to the crusade came upon us with less than noble intentions. I defeated two of the rapscallions, and bloodied another, but was slain for my troubles. These old bones of mine aren't quite what they were..."

"Oh no," said Sunset, giving a sympathetic frown. "Were you all alright?"

"No fears on our end," said the Doctor. "Sir Onion did his job, and Anvil scared off the rest of them. He's a big fellow."

"And I myself am no worse for wear. 'Tis only my third death. In a twenty-eight year career as a knight, I could have done worse."

Well, that's depressing for me.

"Would you like some tea?" asked the Doctor.

"Please."

We stayed and chatted with the Doctor and Sir Onion a while longer, until Granny Smith finished the turnips and called for lunch. Crestfallen left to fetch the others and take over the bonfire, and shortly after, Apple Bloom and Anvil returned to the house. Honest Heart, notably, did not, and I wasn't sure whether it was because he was mad at Sunset or because he was busy with crusade-related endeavours.

Sir Onion and the Doctor's conversation continued, also drawing in Anvil, so I finally got the chance to speak with Sunset about her leaving.

"So, you're going soon?" I asked, eating a spoonful of mashed turnip.

Sunset's ears flattened against her head.

"I have to. I'm sorry, Firelink, but I was always going to have to move on."

"No, no, I understand. I'll also be moving on sometime soon. Once Anvil and the Doctor get the train up and running, I'll be out of here too. Undead or no, I can't stay here forever."

"Going home, right?"

"Yeah."

She smiled at me. "That's good. I'm glad you've still got that. A safe home, away from all this... Equestria isn't what it used to be."

"I certainly won't miss the Darkwraiths." That made her laugh. "And what about you? Where are you going from here?"

The questioned sobered her.

"...Canterlot," she said.

"Canterlot?"

Sunset shifted and sighed.

"It's... something I need to do. I came back to this land searching for somepony, but Apple Bloom said she's gone. Since I couldn't find her, I'm going to find somepony else next. Somepony who will be in Canterlot."

I thought I understood.

"You're searching for the princesses," I said, keeping my volume low. "You came to Ponyville to find Princess Twilight, and couldn't, so now you're off to Canterlot to find another."

Sunset blinked.

"You... how did you...?"

"Just a guess," I said, grinning. "Am I correct in assuming you're one of Frampt's chosen?"

"One of... who? What?"

"No?"

Hmm. That's odd.

"So why seek the princesses, then?" I asked. "What are you after?"

"...Closure, I guess," said Sunset, shrugging. "I want to know what really happened to them. Not just what the Way of White says happened."

How closely did you know them, Sunset? I wanted to ask, but I knew better.

"...They say Mt. Canterlot is a deathtrap," I said. "Are you prepared for it?"

"As much as I can be. I've heard of the dangers on the mountain. I just have to hope that my magic and my armour will carry me through."

I shook my head.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"...I do too."





After lunch, Sunset said her personal goodbyes to everyone in the house, including Crestfallen when he came back. Her parting with Apple Bloom was the most emotional, complete with tears and hugging. When it was finally time for her to leave, I went out into the Acres with her. I insisted on walking her to the edge of the camp, if only to spend a moment longer with her, so I ended up being the last to say goodbye.

On the dirt road at the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, it was finally quiet again, the din of the encampment behind us becoming a distant background noise. Alone out here, there was only the wind and the rustling of the trees.

"Sunset..." I began. "I... I can't thank you enough, for everything you've done for me. I think I was really at the end of my rope when I met you in Ponyville. But you helped me when I needed it, and you gave me a great gift. That means something to me. I just wanted to say... I hope you know how much I appreciate it all. You're a true knight, and a true friend."

She hugged me.

"Thank you too, Firelink. You came to help me too, even when I said I didn't want it. It means a lot to me that you care. You may be new to this, but I think you'll make a fine knight yourself one day."

My face tinged slightly red.

"Well... heh... Thank you."

"Listen, Firelink..." Sunset stared at the ground. "I should've been honest with you from the start. There are things about myself that I haven't told you..."

"You mean that you're the Phoenix Knight?"

She looked up suddenly, giving me an incredulous look. I smiled back.

"How did you know?"

"Come on, Sunset. I wasn't born yesterday."

That amused her. She slapped her face and laughed to herself.

"Am I really that obvious?"

"Well... you did take on a Darkwraith alone with one sword and nearly win. I don't think all the sun heraldry helps either."

"Heh... I guess I'll have to be more careful in future."

"Or, you know, don't let your other friends spill your secrets to their hard-drinking relatives... "

Sunset gave me a sly smile.

"Anvil?"

"Anvil."

We both had a laugh at that, and Sunset rolled her eyes after.

"If I ever see him again, I'll have to have a word with him."

"Don't be too harsh on the old stallion. He didn't mean any harm."

"I'm surprised, though. You knew, and you weren't curious? The whole reason I don't reveal my identity when I'm travelling alone is because I always get ponies asking me questions. They want to hear me talk about founding the Warriors, or my adventures with the Storm Lord in the Dragon Lands, or how the Pale Hunter and I sealed the Evil-Eyed Beast."

I shrugged. "I figured you had a reason to not tell me. I wanted to respect that. I'm interested, don't get me wrong. I have about a million questions right now, but... our time together was already short enough. I'm glad we spent it how we did."

Sunset cleared her throat, and floated something out of her saddlebag, a long shard of glowing white stone, and held it before me.

"I want you to have this," she said as I took it. "It's a calling soapstone. We use them in the Warriors of Sunlight, and give them out to friends. It glows when there's another in range. If you're ever in danger, and need help, squeeze it, and anybody else who has one will come running. Or, you can help them, if your soapstone ever starts pulsing. Just follow the point, like a compass."

I packed it away in my own bags and gave a thoughtful nod.

"Thank you, Sunset."

She leaned over and hugged me.

"I'm going to miss you," she said.

I put a hoof around her and rested my head on her mane.

"I'll miss you too."

Sunset was reluctant to pull away, but she did. With nothing else left to say, she just smiled at me. I smiled back, and then she turned and trotted away towards Ponyville. I didn't leave my spot until she'd entirely disappeared from view.





Just when I thought I was out, fate kept pulling me back in. I'd been on my way back to the barn to spend the rest of the day in the company of the Doctor and Sir Onion, hoping that they had some more tea left. Instead, I stopped when I reached the bonfire, as I spied a familiar red visage with a blond bowl-cut mane.

Sir Penance looked quite troubled, constantly turning back and forth, looking in all directions for something or other amidst a crowd of changelings joined in some wordless hymn. He stopped when he spotted me, and gave a joyless wave of his hoof to beckon me over. I held back a spike of anger, remembering how he and the rest of his party had abandoned me after the feral changelings had torn my throat out. But I reminded myself again that I'd known what I was getting in for.

We circled around the changelings and met halfway.

"Firelink," said the Cleric-Knight in his characteristically soft voice. "Good to see you again, and still holding onto yourself. I feared that I'd seen the last of you after you fell in White Tail Woods."

I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth.

"...Likewise. I see you joined up with the crusade after all."

He gave a sigh and hung his head.

"Indeed I did... I couldn't begin to tell you what a trying few days it's been."

"Mmhm. Killing deer not going so well?"

He looked up at me, and I was taken aback to see his eyes watering.

"It was a massacre," he whispered. "The deer, they... they're savages. They had... dark magic, a-and undead soldiers, and... released monsters on us. They tamed the beasts of the forest, and came upon our camps with them! Tore us apart with tooth and claw! They had control of the plants, too. I saw a vine burst out the ground, and grow straight through a stallion's throat... I've never seen so much blood... For every one of them, we must've lost six of our own."

It was then I noticed that he was alone.

"Sir Penance... where are Sister Pilgrimage and the brothers?"

He went back to staring at the ground. He had the same haunted in look in his eyes that I'd seen in the other Cleric-Knight earlier.

"I... I lost them..." he whispered. "I became separated from them after we left Madam Zecora's... Timberwolves came upon us, and I fled for the nearest camp. I have no idea what happened to them... The memory, it shames me deeply..."

I couldn't believe it. He'd actually done it again. To his own companions this time.

"You just... left them to die?"

Sir Penance flinched. "I... I couldn't help myself... I was frightened."

"Oh. Right. You were frightened. Of course. Never mind me then."

"I-It's not like that!" he protested. "You weren't there! If you could've seen it yourself, you'd understand!"

I snorted.

"Yeah. Sure I would've, Penance."

"I did what I could!"

"Just like how you did what you could for me?" I said pointedly, shooting him a look. "You know what? Forget it. I don't want to stand here and listen to your excuses. I've known you for four days, and in that time you've left just as many people to die, including myself. A changeling ripped out my damned throat on your watch."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Sir Penance shouted, the softness gone from his voice. "I'm a failure and a coward! I know! But what do you expect me to do about that?"

I turned away from him. "I have no expectations of you whatsoever."

"I did what I could! Really!" he called as I started walking away. "I came here to search for them! I thought at least that Sister Pilgrimage would be here at the bonfire if she escaped, but..."

I stopped and went momentarily quiet, and then turned around to face Sir Penance again.

"Was Pilgrimage a changeling?" I asked.

My question gave him pause.

"...She was," he said hesitantly. "But she preferred to take pony form. Said it made her feel closer to Celestia."

I blinked and turned back away, sighing and shaking my head.

A lot had happened since I'd come to Equestria. I'd died several painful deaths, and I thought I'd learned from them to not take unnecessary risks. I'd met new friends, and for a moment there, in their company, I thought I'd really been beginning to forget what had happened. But then Sir Penance had to tell me that, and then it all came flooding back. I remembered a decaying asylum, and a frightful demon, and a friend surrounded by horror and danger who'd needed my help, no matter how big a risk it was.

A friend who I'd failed to save. A friend who I'd been afraid to remember for all this time for fear that his memory would make me vulnerable. But what good had fear ever done me? And what was I living on for if not to do the right thing?

"Unbelievable..." I muttered. "I'm right back where I started..."

"...What's unbelievable?" asked Sir Penance.

"Where in the forest is Madam Zecora's, and how do I get there?" I asked, keeping my back to him.

Sir Penance spluttered. "Y-You-You can't go in there! Didn't you hear me earlier? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm going to do your job for you," I said sharply. "Now, where is it?"





This is a bad idea. You don't know Pilgrimage. She's not worth risking your life and sanity for. The Everfree will chew you up and spit you out just like the Changeling Asylum did.

The thought repeated in my head over and over again, with only slight variations each time, but I never once broke my stride. My helmet was on, my sword and shield were at the ready, I'd said brief goodbyes to everyone familiar to me, and now I was marching off to my probable doom. The treeline of the Everfree Forest loomed over me, dark and foreboding, but I held my head high and approached regardless.

This is stupid. You're going to die. You're not nearly ready for this. Don't waste your life on pointless heroic gestures.

I passed the first lot of trees, following a beaten path through the woods. The underbrush had been cut away, and the crusaders had tried to widen the trail. According to Sir Penance, the Way of White and the Chaos Paladins had been trying their damnedest to establish base camps further into the forest, so as to better advance on the deer. These trails were vital to reaching them, and to keeping the camps supplied. Those camps formed the front line of this war.

I trod through mud as I went deeper in. Everything was damp here, from the wood to the earth. Where spotty sunlight had shone through in White Tail Woods, here it couldn't penetrate the treetops, and the forest was shrouded in darkness. The owls were even out, the sounds of their hooting filling the air. I didn't see much wildlife while following the path, but a rustling bush or two sometimes caught me off-guard and made me prematurely draw Brightflame.

Still, as on-edge as I was, I didn't fear the prospect of combat anymore. I'd faced Darkwraiths now, and I'd overcome Vamos in single combat. I was beginning to feel some measure of confidence.

However, the deeper I went into the forest, the more oppressive the darkness became, and the worse things started looking. I began finding evidence of the crusaders and their activities here and there. An arrow in a tree. A helmet lying in the mud. A trail of dried blood. More than once, I even found corpses, mostly Chaos Paladins, who were probably less inclined to carry off their dead for honourable burials. No dead deer, though.

And then I came upon it. The first base camp. It was only small, a little cluster of maybe seven white and gold tents just like the ones that had been set up on Sweet Apple Acres, but it made itself obvious amongst all this green. The camp was situated at the top of a small hill, surrounded by underbrush and dense foliage. A burning beacon lit the side closest to me, and a Cleric-Knight with a crossbow stood guard.

Going around the camp, I found a beaten track leading up to its intended entrance. Another guard stood at attention, but he didn't seem concerned once he noticed me. I supposed that as long as I wasn't a deer, the Cleric-Knights had no reason to fear me.

"White or Paladin?" said the guard as I came over.

"Tourist," I said, lifting my visor.

Looking further into the camp, I noted a crackling campfire set up in the middle of the circle of tents, and several crates, barrels, and weapon racks all around.

"Mind if I ask what a tourist is doing out in this mess?"

I stepped past him and into the camp. "I'm looking for Madam Zecora's."

The guard followed in after me.

"East of here. Back behind us. There's a garrison stationed there, but we haven't heard back from them since yesterday. And dark days, I shouldn't need to tell you, are a hell of an opportunity for the enemy to wreak havoc with our forward operating bases."

I looked around the camp more. There were three Chaos Paladins around that I could see, all minotaurs, but none of them looked like the brothers; one was dressed as a magician, another had a handlebar moustache, and the third was neon pink. I shrugged them off and kept looking.

"I'm searching for some crusaders who went missing in action," I said. "A changeling known as Sister Pilgrimage, and two minotaurs, Paladins Great Victory and Small Nicety. Have they come through here? Fleeing, or wounded?"

"I don't know them," said the guard. "I'm sorry. If they were at Madam Zecora's, I would guess that they're dead. And the only wounded we have here are our own."

"They're not dead until I see a corpse."

One of the tents opened a flap, and a fully dressed diamond dog with a staff and a pointy wizard's hat stepped outside. I reacted without thinking.

"Grim?" I blurted out.

The diamond dog turned my way. However, when I looked more closely, it wasn't him. This one wore a fancy cloak instead of tatty black robes, her staff curled into an S-shape at the top and lacked the blue crystal tip that Grim had, and her wizard hat was much bigger. So much bigger, in fact, that tipping it forward slightly covered the dog's face completely.

"Grim?" she said, chuckling. "I fear you've mistaken me for another."

"That's Witchcraft," said the guard. "She's a tourist like you. Exile from Dimondia."

"I thought I heard discussion of Madam Zecora's?" said Witchcraft. "Did you say you're looking for missing crusaders?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but then a cry went through the camp.

"Enemy!"

There was a screaming from one side. Then a clash of steel from the other. Hooves thundered from all directions. A spear flew out of nowhere and impaled the guard I'd been speaking to, who fell face-first into the campfire. I backed away, drawing Brightflame and my shield, and formed up with the other Cleric-Knights and Chaos Paladins in the centre of the camp. Witchcraft joined us, squeezing in beside me.

I could see them through the trees. The deer circled the camp like vultures, flashes of brown and red that darted behind the tents while cutting down the two or three sentries stuck outside. They screamed as they died, and the light died with them as the beacons were extinguished.

Then there were tearing noises from within the tents. More screams. Crying. Crashing. Squelching and squishing. Finally, the blood-soaked deer stepped out of the tents and into the middle of the camp where we were waiting. Those who were still circling around the outside stopped, and walked into the camp to join the rest in surrounding us. There must have been at least twenty of them, forming a ring around our group.

I'd never seen a deer before, but they'd made an impressive entrance. They were all clad in light, red armour that covered only their backs and legs, as well as simple helmets which left most of their faces exposed. I guessed that they weren't concerned much about protection. They were very lithe creatures, and very quick as well. They'd hit hard and fast, and left us no time to react.

Now we were at their mercy, and every single one of them looked furious. They were giving us the most hateful looks I'd ever seen. A few were even directed at me. I stared at the blood dripping from their antlers and hooves, both of which were fitted with sharpened blades.

A much larger deer was the last enter the camp. His antlers were bigger than all the rest, and he stood taller than any of them, but the only thing about his dress that distinguished him from the others was a collar around his neck with some sort of tiny barrel hanging from its front. He sneered at us as he walked in.

"Lower your weapons if you want to live, you mongrels."

I looked around at the others. Witchcraft, the three minotaurs, and the remaining Cleric-Knights all threw their weapons to the floor. Not wanting to cause a forest fire, I simply placed Brightflame back in its sheath, but that just made the deer leader glare at me.

"You will disarm too."

I removed both my scabbards and dropped them, as told.

"I just want to say, I'm not with the Way of White or the Chaos Paladins. I mean you no harm."

The deer leader came over and stood directly over me. He was a head taller than myself, and looked down his nose at me, so I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

"You bring fire into a forest, and you claim you meant no harm?"

Before I could respond, he spat on me. I closed my eyes as it ran down my face, and tried not to react. I just removed my helmet and wiped it off with a hoof.

The commander started walking around the camp.

"Extinguish the fire and dismantle these tents," he ordered. "We'll take the captives back to Thicket. Maybe they'll make good hostages."

No sooner had he given the order than one of the tents collapsed by itself. Everybody in the camp all looked over as it fell down. On the other side, a lone stallion floated a zweihander by his side, just like the one I'd seen in Anvil's workshop. He wore a light set of golden armour with a blue star on the front, and covered his face with a bizarre bronze mask. It depicted an open-mouthed minotaur staring out blankly, with his mane, beard, and sideburns all curling into swirly shapes.

Witchcraft and the Cleric-Knights all looked either nervous or hopeful. But the three minotaurs had broken into gleeful grins.

"It's him," the neon-pink one whispered excitedly.

The deer commander stepped away from his soldiers and stopped a short distance from the stallion, giving him the same contemptuous glare he'd given us.

"The Legend, I presume?" he said, his voice full of loathing. "Do you know who I am?"

The Legend casually strolled forward.

"Some scrub," he answered.

"I am Prince Bramble of Thicket, you impudent—"

Without warning, the Legend swung his zweihander down and cleaved straight through the armour on Prince Bramble's back, cutting halfway into his abdomen and causing the prince to release a blood-curdling scream.

"I said, you're a scrub!" the Legend roared.

He tore out the greatsword, but instead of going for any of the other deer, he brought it down again with thundering speed, this time hacking off a leg. Then a third time, carving through his hindquarters. Then a fourth, his victim still screaming all the way. One of the braver deer rushed in to attack, but the Legend just casually decapitated him in an eyeblink, knocked his severed head back at his companions, and then immediately return to savaging the prince. All of us in the camp flinched with every strike, some of us staring on in open-mouthed shock at the spectacle, and others cringing and covering their eyes.

And the Legend just kept going, ignoring the rest of the deer now cautiously circling him. He continued brutalising Prince Bramble over and over again as many times as he could without killing him. The prince screamed bloody murder, and the Legend cackled manically as he kept hacking him to pieces. There was so much blood that I wouldn't have believed it was all from one person if I wasn't seeing it myself. The deer hung back, fear plain on their faces. One of them gulped.

Eventually, the screams were silenced, and all that was left was the wet squishing of the Legend's sword cutting into flesh. By that point, Prince Bramble's corpse was barely recognisable as a deer. The Legend had left only a red ruin. Then he looked up from the pile of gore at the others circling him. He twirled his zweihander, rearing up on his hind legs.

"Well? Come have a go if you think you're hard enough!"

Nervous or not, they took their chance. Six of them rushed past him at once, the air around them a flurry of blades. The Legend cried out, blood spraying from his wounds, and fell to his knees. The deer turned around and readied themselves to strike again, but before they could make their move, he melted away into smoke.

"What?" said one deer.

"Where did he go?" asked another.

Then one of them shrieked as a bloody hoof exploded out of his chest.

"It's so cosy and warm in here!" said a muffled voice from within.

At this point, the Cleric-Knights and I were screaming too. Soaked in blood, the Legend emerged from inside the deer, tearing the hole open wider so that he could crawl out.

Most of the other deer ran away then and there. They didn't call a retreat. None of them gave any orders. They just turned around and ran as fast as they could. Only maybe four remained after that, and probably only because they were frozen in fear and shock. The Legend stepped near one of them, who panicked and tried to strike him, only for his hoof to explode into jelly on contact. He screamed and stepped back, holding his mutilated foreleg.

Then the Legend stuck his hooves into the bloody remains of his latest victim, picked some of it up, and started smearing it over his mask.

"For you, oh Father of Demons, I bathe in the blood of the orderly!"

That, apparently, was the breaking point. The last of the deer bolted off into the forest as fast as they could. I was amazed that it had taken them this long.

The Legend stopped rubbing himself and lifted his greatsword.

"Running?" he shouted. "But the party's only just started!"

He galloped off after them and disappeared into the green. I was left paralyzed, unable to process what I had just seen. The griffon getting his head smashed in had been bad. The exploding changeling had been bad. That was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen in my life, and by the looks on their faces, the rest of the Cleric-Knights at the camp agreed with me.

The Chaos Paladins did not.

"That was glorious!" said the magician. "The most violent display of chaos I've ever seen!"

The one with the handlebar moustache grinned enthusiastically. "I wish to gouge my own eyes out, so that what I've just seen will forever be my last sight!"

"By Discord, I am aroused!" added the neon pink one.

I just tore my helmet off and ran to the edge of the camp. I needed to be sick.





"Oh, for Juniper's sake. Put some spring into your step!"




> Chapter 7: The Howls and the Sickly Screams
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The woods stank of blood. It even overpowered the smell of my emptied stomach contents. The Legend had left carnage in his wake. Everywhere I looked there were pieces of the prince, not that his remains were in any way identifiable. The other dead deer were more intact, but their corpses were no less nauseating to look at. I had to avert my gaze when I saw the one with the hole in his chest, as I remembered how the Chaos Paladin had somehow teleported inside him and tore his way out. The very memory made me gag.

When I staggered back into the camp itself, the guard who'd fallen face-first into the fire was still cooking away, and the three Chaos Paladins were acting like they didn't even notice him. The burning flesh and hair mixed with the ever-present stench of blood, creating a new odour somehow fouler than the sum of its parts. I wanted to run back out and start retching again, but I fought the urge and simply picked up my weapons and helmet. I didn't want to spend a single moment more in this place, and I had people to rescue besides, so as soon as I had everything and was properly equipped, I went to leave.

As I started heading east into the forest, I was stopped by a paw clapping on my shoulder. I looked back to find Witchcraft in her fancy robes, hunched over and grinning at me from under the brim of her enormous hat.

"Heading out, are you?" she said in a scratchy voice. "If you still seek Madam Zecora's, I would join you."

I pulled away from the diamond dog.

"What do you want there?" I asked. "To stage another massacre like this one? Hmm? Maybe eat somepony alive and make me watch? No, I'm done with Chaos Paladins! I'm done with all of you! You're sick, twisted individuals, and I want no part of whatever scheme you're hatching!"

I tried to gallop away, but she ran in front and cut me off, somehow faster on two legs than I was on four.

"Hold up, hold up!" she said. "I'm no Chaos Paladin. You may find my state of dress bizarre, but don't be mistaken. Didn't you hear the stallion before? I'm like you. I'm here for my own reasons."

"And what would those be?"

Witchcraft stood straight, allowing me to finally see her face. It was saggy and wrinkled, and her fur was going grey, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that lent her a sense of youthful energy in spite of that.

"I am a wizard," she said, placing a paw over her heart. "In my time, I was the most honoured professor of the Dragon School of Dimondia. I live for discovery, but alas, knowledge is not so freely accessed these days. Madam Zecora is one of the greatest alchemists to ever live, and she resides here in these woods. I would learn from her, if I could."

I sighed.

"Fine. You can come with me. But fair warning, I'm not the best warrior, and if it comes down to it, I probably can't protect you from another deer attack."

Witchcraft gave me an unnerving grin. "I can defend myself just fine, little pony. I just need somepony to run distraction for me."

I tentatively turned back to the eastward path and started trotting, the wizard following close behind.

I'm going to die again, aren't I?





Chapter 7:
The Howls and the Sickly Screams





The path to Madam Zecora's was a long one, or at least it felt that way. We didn't see any more deer on our way, but the forest animals slowed us down enough by themselves. Giant bats swooped overhead, snakes slithered under our legs and tried to bite through my armour to no effect, and a swarm of large insects called "parasprites" buzzed around us for long enough to become annoying. We didn't make good time because of all of these minor nuisances, but the long walk at least gave us opportunity to talk. Which was good, because I had questions to ask about Grim and the diamond dog nation.

I started off by telling Witchcraft all about my encounter with Grim, beginning with how we'd found him imprisoned in the Ponyville Schoolhouse and freed him, and then onto how he'd turned out to be a wizard. I recounted how he'd said he was going to seek out a great teacher from back home, and finally made the connection and realised that he had been talking about her. Then finally, I told her of how I learned that he was allegedly a Dimondian spy, who had actually been imprisoned by the Way of White.

Witchcraft chuckled at that.

"Ah, yes... the spooks of Dimondia. Renowned around the world, exactly as spies shouldn't be. No doubt this Grim you speak of was sent to assassinate me. Or perhaps just spy on me... Yet, either way, posing as a fan seeking my tutelage is a poor ruse, even for the likes of them. They should know that I would see through it... Perhaps they thought appealing to my ego would override my common sense?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "What if he's not here for you? What if he's here to spy on the Way of White, and you're just a misdirection?"

"Hmph." Witchcraft stroked her chin. "Could be, pony. Could be..."

While she'd taken the time to introduce herself to me, Witchcraft for whatever reason hadn't asked for my name. She seemed perfectly happy to just call me "pony" and leave it at that. I thought it would annoy me after a while, but I just found it strange. I didn't volunteer the information myself, though. If she didn't care, then there didn't seem much of a point.

"Why would your homeland want to have you assassinated anyway?"

"Treason. Dimondia is a kingdom with politics to think of, but my loyalty is to knowledge, not to a nation. For twenty years now, I've been on a quest of discovery. I sought to learn from any who had something to teach, no matter who they may be. I consorted with everybody from the lowly chaos sorcerers of Leota to the Lady of Dusk herself."

Witchcraft looked slightly away from me.

"And... yes... I learned from the Way of White too. The monks of the Twilight Acolytes are among the most learned scholars in the world today, and the Church's treasures and secrets are many. But I did not want to swear an oath of servitude to gods I'm not even sure I believe in, so inside knowledge of the Dragon School of Dimondia was the price demanded of me."

I stared at her through the slit in my visor.

"You're judging me," said Witchcraft, grabbing the brim of her hat and pulling it lower.

I turned my eyes back to the path. The area we were in now was particularly dark, even with the sunlight coming through the treetops, and the dirt road we were following was getting narrow.

"...I'm trying not to," I said as our path twisted around a tree. "I don't know anything about Dimondia or its conflict with the Church, so it's not my place to judge. But a treason charge would make anybody think twice."

"My actions were questionable, but the information I sold was hardly privileged. Any dog of Dimondia could have learned the same from simply enrolling in my classes and observing. The king scorns me now, but it's not because I harmed his kingdom. It's because I dared to befriend people that he despises. He is a proud dragon, motivated by emotion, not rationality."

I stumbled at that.

"...The diamond dog nation has a dragon for a king?"

"King Shulva," she said, nodding. "Also known as Shulva the Sinner, and Shulva the Slumbering. In ancient times, Dimondia elected its royalty, choosing whoever seemed most likely to lead us to glory. The monarch who dons the Diamond Crown serves for life, unless he loses the faith of the electorate, just as the alpha rules his pack only so long as he is the strongest. But sometimes, the one we found most worthy wasn't a dog. Quite often it was a pony, or a griffon, or a donkey. And in one case, nearly four hundred years ago, it was a dragon, who has ruled over us ever since."

"...Hence the Dragon School, I suppose."

"Indeed." Witchcraft nodded sagely. "Before King Shulva's rule, Dimondia was a mining kingdom, like Underhaven before us. But now it is the Dragon School that is our pride and glory, and the mines beneath the kingdom are secondary."

"Huh. Well, I've definitely learned something new today."

Witchcraft grinned. "I should hope so. I wouldn't be a very good teacher otherwise."

I honestly wouldn't have minded having Witchcraft for a teacher. When I was a colt, I'd always found school extremely dull. We'd only ever had one teacher in Brittlesworth, an old half-deaf mare who'd been nearly a hundred before she died. My mother told me that she had been a good teacher in her youth, but by the time I'd had her, she had become too feeble to control her class, so we'd never really learned anything. Gran had taught me more than school ever did, if it could even be called school at all; Brittlesworth had no schoolhouse, so classes had been held in the old mare's home instead.

"So, you mentioned Underhaven. What is that?"

"The first kingdom of the diamond dogs, before Dimondia. It was built below the mountains far to the south. Sadly fallen now, but in its day, it was great indeed..."

For much of the rest of the way, Witchcraft regaled me with the story of Underhaven and diamond dog history. There were tales of heroism, tyranny, tragedy, and triumph, just as there would be in the history of any kingdom. Unfortunately, we were still in the Everfree, so sooner or later the relative peacefulness passed, and we were thrust into danger.

The howling came as a warning. We kept walking, but Witchcraft went quiet, listening to the distant baying of wolves. Her ears twitched slightly, and she shushed me when I tried to whisper questions. With a wave of her staff, she erected a shimmering purple barrier around us.

"...Be ready," she whispered to me. "This may actually challenge us; if they attack, it will be as a pack."

It was not long before she was proven right. They cut across our path ahead, and stalked around behind us into the woods again. More appeared soon after. Only they weren't wolves. They looked like wolves, but their bodies were cobbled together from sticks and logs, and their eyes shined a sinister green. They prowled around the outside of the shield bubble, snarling as they circled us.

"...Can this hold against them?" I asked.

One of them lunged against the outside of the shield, snapping its wooden jaw. I wasn't sure if the bite did anything, but the force of the impact as it headbutted the shield caused a small crack to form. The wooden wolf backed away, shaking its head and barking.

"Depends on if they do that again."

Behind us, another wolf headbutted the shield. Then a third. Then it became a frenzy. They all growled and snarled and bit, and a few leapt up against the shield and started scratching it with their claws, as if they were trying to climb on top of it or roll it over. With every attack, more cracks started slithering across the shield. Witchcraft closed her eyes, and her gnarled wooden staff glowed all over, washing away the cracks. But as soon as they were gone, they were already advancing back.

"No, I can't hold it. I'm going to shockwave them and see if we can scare them off. Be ready to fight."

I drew my shield and pulled Brightflame from its scabbard.

"Ready."

The shield expanded outwards suddenly. It hit the wolves and threw them back, smashing some of them against the trees and sending the rest flying.

As soon as the shield was gone, Witchcraft raised her staff and fired a magical beam at the closest wolf, shattering it into pieces. I turned to my nearest wolf as well and swung at it while it was still on the ground. It too broke apart under the force of the blow, reduced to a pile of burning wood. The wooden wolves seemed fearsome, but they weren't held together strongly. One of them raced over and lunged at me, but I cut it down midair, sending flaming splinters across the forest floor.

"Come on, then!" I roared. "You're all made of wood! See what happens!"

Three of them went for me at once, two closing their jaws around my legs and one going for my face, but there wasn't much they could do to me in plate armour. I struggled to throw them off, and hacked away at them with Brightflame. One of them survived a blow, but caught fire, forcing it to let me go. It ran around in a panic, howling and crying just like a real wolf would. I blocked out the distraction and tried to focus on the others, particularly the ones closing on Witchcraft.

She reacted fast, blasting them apart before they could reach her, but one of them was too quick. It tackled her to the ground, making Witchcraft drop her staff. I tried to get in and help, but another wolf was soon upon me, and I had to deal with it first. Witchcraft held back her attacker as it snapped her face, and to my surprise, she growled at the creature and bared her teeth to it. By the time I was free to move again, she had flipped it over so that she was on top, and was biting the wooden wolf's leg. I didn't have a clear shot anymore, so I focused on defending her from the rest of the pack.

Soon, the whole scene was aflame, as the forest quickly caught fire from the burning remnants of the wolves. Acrid smoke filled my nostrils, and forced me into fits of coughing, while sweat ran in rivulets down my face. By now, I had reduced enough of the beasts to kindling that the pack was backing off, but one last wolf still wrestled with Witchcraft as his brothers fled. The two separated, and now circled each other while growling. Witchcraft had lost her hat, and remained on all fours for some reason, fur standing up and maw covered in tree sap. The smoke made her eyes water, but she paid it barely any heed.

I ended the spectacle with one last swing of my sword. Witchcraft cringed as the burning bits of wood flew past her face. I stood there for a few seconds, looking down at down at her, and she blinked as she realised her position and stood upright again.

"...Are you sure you're not a Chaos Paladin?" I said, choking on the air.

"Please, forgive me," she coughed. "I'm not quite sure what came over me there."

I looked around at the forest, now obscured by the smoke, yet illuminated in an orange glow. The spreading fire crackled away, and the trees were charring black.

"Well... maybe I'm not one to talk."

The deer prince was probably right to hate me...





It wasn't much further to go to Madam Zecora's. Once the attack was over, Witchcraft smothered the forest fire with some kind of spell, and we resumed our journey. The path was clear from danger from then on, with everything around that might have otherwise posed a threat scared off by the fire.

However, we did start running into plenty of crows.

The last stretch was full of them. They were pecking the eyes out of what must've been a hundred corpses. Across the path, beside it, and further into the woods as well, the ground was strewn with bodies, all bloody and shredded and covered in mud. Some were missing limbs or bits of skin. Many had bite marks and chunks of flesh ripped out from where bigger animals had savaged them. But the war wounds on some of them showed that this wasn't just the work of animals. Some had obviously been killed by the sword or spear, and one dead stallion even still had an axe buried in his skull. And just as everywhere else, not a single one of the bodies were deer. They were all Cleric-Knights and Chaos Paladins.

Witchcraft and I tried to hurry through. The stink of blood and excrement coming off of them made my eyes water. The trail of bodies seemed never-ending, the remains of their faces all frozen in looks of terror and shock. Some still clutched their weapons, but plenty had dropped theirs somewhere. The ground was littered with them, lost swords, spears, maces, axes, shields, and helmets, along with severed limbs and bloody bones. At one point, we stepped across a fallen Way of White flag, lying in a muddy puddle.

Sir Penance wasn't lying. This was a massacre.

Despite my disgust, I didn't shy away from looking at them. I had to be sure. I'd come to find Sister Pilgrimage and the brothers, and I meant to do it. Most of the Chaos Paladin corpses were minotaurs, so I studied them with particular fearfulness, but I didn't see any in snakeskin leather. I did find a dead Sister of Solace amongst all the carnage, momentarily making my heart jump into my throat, but I soon realised it wasn't Pilgrimage; the dead nun's blood was red, where Pilgrimage would've bled green. A closer look at her face confirmed it.

"We should have started the forest fire here," said Witchcraft. "Burned all this horror away."

I wished we had.

The corpses plagued the trail all the way to the end, where it eventually stopped in front of a gnarled and twisted tree. A doorway and two circular windows adorned the front of the tree, light pouring out from within, and colourful corked bottles on the ends of strings hung from the branches. The scene reminded me of the crystal castle in Ponyville, aside from all the spooky masks mounted over the tree. But when done with a real tree, in this gloomy forest, surrounded by so much death, it was less grand than it was just plain scary.

Witchcraft and I approached with some trepidation.

"Do you think there's even anybody alive in there?" I asked.

"I'm told that Madam Zecora's home is protected by magic. If that's true, there is a chance that she and any others inside may have survived."

"Let's hope so..."

I raised a hoof to knock on the door, but was startled as a snarling came from within. I tore Brightflame from its scabbard, ready for another attack, but a muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

"Hush, little one; no need to fear," said the voice, deep yet feminine. "Hello, travellers? Who comes here?"

Hey, that rhymed.

"Missionaries," I answered, putting Brightflame away. "Have you accepted the Four as your lords and saviours?"

The door opened up, and a wrinkled mare poked her head out, giving us a wry smile. Her coat and mane were both marked by black and white stripes, and she wore golden rings around her neck, as well as on her ears.

"A joke's an awful thing to waste, but here and now, it's in poor taste."

Oh, I see what she's doing.

"Yeah, well, I need some levity after what I've just seen."

It took me a moment to realise who she reminded me of. I'd run across a Chaos Paladin in Sweet Apple Acres who'd also had black and white stripes. Not exactly like this mare's, but very similar. I'd assumed at the time that they were just another weird fashion statement, but maybe this was a natural coat pattern in Equestria.

Witchcraft stepped forward before either of us could say anything more.

"Madam Zecora," she said. "The famous zebra shaman of the Everfree. I have journeyed far to find you. A great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Witchcraft offered a paw, and Madam Zecora took it in hoof.

"This meeting is my pleasure, too. Please come in, the both of you."

She fully opened the door and stood aside, letting Witchcraft through first and then me. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I stopped in my tracks. A furry grey animal sat just inside the room. It was a wolf. A real wolf this time, not a wooden one. It stared at me with its golden-yellow eyes, and leaned forward to sniff the leg of my armour. I looked over to Zecora as she shut the door and walked past me into the room.

"There is no cause to feel alarm. My lupine friend will do no harm."

I took off my helmet and placed it on a table to my right. The wolf rose, almost as tall as me at his standing height, and sniffed my face too. Then he began licking it. I let it go on for a bit, thinking he'd stop eventually. When he didn't, I gently shoved him off.

"Okay, enough of that."

The wolf sat down again and tilted his head. I paused, considering him for a second.

"Lay down," I said on a whim.

And he did.

"Roll over."

And he did that too, rolling onto his back and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth. It made him look like he was smiling.

...Well that's just adorable.

"Well-trained animal you have here," I said, leaning down to rub his belly.

"The wolf’s not mine, but that is so," said Zecora. "His former master helped him grow."

I sat on the floor while I kept petting him, and took a look around at the rest of the hut.

It was all one room, aside from a pair of alcoves on my right, the furthest of which I couldn't see into from where I was. Numerous shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles, jars, cups, and bowls, as well as candles and books. More creepy masks were mounted where there were no shelves, and yet more corked bottles hung from the ceiling on strings, just like outside. But the centrepiece of the room was the cauldron, bubbling away over a firepit. I didn't know what it was cooking, but an aroma of garlic was wafting off of it.

Witchcraft stood in the first alcove by the table, wringing her paws.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "My name is Professor Witchcraft, also known as Big Hat. I travel the world in search of knowledge. Your name... is quite famed in certain circles. The scholars of the Twilight Acolytes speak highly of you, and I have been a distant admirer for some time... I come hoping, nay, begging for you to please share your wisdom with me. I cannot consider my quest any kind of success without some input from the greatest alchemist of all time."

Madam Zecora laughed.

"Flattery gets you everywhere, but I’ve another in my care. A pony crusader is staying here, in hiding from the wolves and deer."

Almost as if on cue, a hooded pony in tatty, dull brown robes emerged from the second alcove. A number of what looked like patterned scarves were wrapped around his midsection, where an axe also hung in a holster, and colourful beads lined his neckchain and hoof bracelets. He looked like a Chaos Paladin to me. He was certainly odd enough to be one. He said nothing, quietly looking between me and Witchcraft, as if expecting us to make the first move.

I stood and crossed the room. The wolf rolled upright to watch me. I'd been intending to avoid any more Chaos Paladins I came into contact with, but I needed information if I was going to find Pilgrimage and the brothers.

"Hello there," I said amiably, holding out a hoof. "Nice to meet you, Paladin...?"

I was expecting him to do something bizarre. Instead, he just gripped my hoof and shook it.

"Lawless," he said, his voice a murmur. "Lawless of Leota."

"I'm here searching for some people, Lawless. A nun named Sister Pilgrimage, and a pair of Chaos Paladin brothers called Great Victory and Small Nicety. Victory and Nicety are minotaurs in patchwork armour of snakeskin leather and metal. One's big and carries a mace, and the other's small and has a battleaxe. Sister Pilgrimage is changeling, but she takes the form of a white unicorn mare. They might've been accompanied by a Cleric-Knight. Did you see them? Do you know where they went?"

Lawless looked at the ground.

"Mmm," he muttered. "Can't say I know 'em by name, but I remember 'em. Don't get many Sisters of Solace in the woods. Maybe two or three at the southeast camp. One of 'em had a pair of Paladins guardin' her."

"The southeast camp?" I pressed. "Where is that?"

"It was close to here. Until the deer came last dark day and slaughtered us." Lawless closed his eyes and shook his head. "So much death... so much blood... it ran in rivers..."

That was disconcerting.

"I believe we may have walked through the remains of that on the way here," said Witchcraft.

Zecora sighed.

"Not so. Their camp was south and east. The western road’s where crows now feast."

"They fell upon us at the camp..." said Lawless. "Came at us from the west, hit us too hard to fight back, so we ran any other way we could. Those what you saw on the road are the ones that went north, making for the Acres, but they were ambushed. I reckon some made it through, but the deer got most of 'em. I was with the lot that went east. We were caught up against the cliffs and slaughtered. I'm all that remains of that lot. Only just escaped. Got here too late to be butchered on the road with the others, but I can't get through meself..."

"Why not?" asked Witchcraft.

"They left timberwolves on the west road to catch the stragglers... A whole pack of 'em. They've been prowling out there since yesterday. I reckon they've got my scent. And they ain't leavin' 'til they've got me."

"Well, I think you can relax," I said. "I'm pretty sure Witchcraft and I killed them all."

"Hrmm, not likely," said Witchcraft, leaning against the wall and frowning. "Timberwolves break easily, but they can always reassemble, unless you destroy their darkwood hearts. The ones you burned might not trouble us again, but even so, they're constructs of a hivemind, not flesh and blood. Until we destroy the screaming tree that controls them, the pack will always survive."

"Well, that's... annoying..."

Just then, I noticed the looks on Lawless and Zecora's faces. Both of them were staring at us in wide-eyed horror.

"...What?" I said.

Before either of them could answer, a thunderous crashing sounded from outside, followed by a long, baleful howl and a series of smaller thumps. The wolf by the door whimpered and started racing around the room. I reluctantly moved over to one of the windows, and peered out into the forest. A few of the trees that had been standing before were now fallen.

Then it came into view. It was a timberwolf alright, just like the ones we'd fought on the road. Only this one was the size of a house, and not a small house either. Where regular timberwolves had been built of sticks, this one had logs. Where they had logs, this one had entire trees. It was bigger than the Asylum demon. It was bigger than Frampt. It was the most singularly enormous monster I'd ever seen.

I edged back from the window and breathed deep.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkay... it can't get in here, right?"

The wolf let out a long whine, while Lawless curled up in a ball on the floor. Witchcraft just stared blankly out the window.

"Timberwolves are arbomancers..." she said, slowly. "We are inside a tree. I don't think this is the most secure place to be right now."

"The timberwolves can’t harm us here," said Zecora. "My wards will hold it, have no fear."

All the same, I floated my helmet over and fitted it back on.

"So, do we have a plan?" I asked. "How are we going to fight it off?"

Witchcraft barked out a laugh.

"I am not fighting that beast. It's not worth the effort. If it can't get in here, then I'm perfectly content to wait however long it takes for it to go away."

I pursed my lips, peering out through the windows and considering my next move. If Lawless was right, that monster out there was not going away anytime soon. I didn't know if Pilgrimage or the brothers were alive or dead, but on the off-chance that they'd survived, how much longer could they last? Did I have time to wait out a siege before I resumed my search? What if they died while I was sitting in here, waiting for a monster to go away when it never would?

I looked down at my sword. Fire beat wood, I knew that much. The timberwolves I'd faced earlier had proven easy foes. Their wooden teeth were barely strong enough to scratch my armour, and they'd each shattered with a single blow. This one... probably not so easy, but... surely it was the same in principle? If I could just set it alight, that'd make quick work of it at any size, right? I just had to be careful that it didn't crush me to death and leave me incapacitated for a day. That would be a good thing to avoid.

I sighed and drew Brightflame again.

This is a bad idea.

Witchcraft gave me a look like I was mad, but I just looked to her and shrugged.

"It's made of wood," I said. "How hard can it be to burn?"

I went to open the front door, but Witchcraft's paw on my shoulder stopped me.

"Hold on," she said. "That thing won't shatter as easily as the others. If you mean to burn it down, you need to be sure it's going to burn. You have to lodge that sword somewhere that'll give the fire time to catch."

"Or, alternatively, I could just throw fire spells at it until one sticks."

Witchcraft blinked and released me.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't expect you to know any pyromancy. Most unicorns only know one or two spells related to their talent."

"Yeah, well, same here."

Before she could say anything else, I stepped out into the forest.

The giant timberwolf prowled about between the trees, glowering at me through the wood with its luminescent green eyes. I stepped around the corpses, and the carrion crows flew off as I held my sword before me and faced down my foe. The timberwolf lowered its head and growled, amber fluid dripping from its maw. I noticed now that it had a wooden crown atop its head, like a king. That made me smirk momentarily.

It came bounding forward, smashing through any trees in its way and trampling the corpses underfoot. I leapt to the side as it came upon me, rolling through a muddy puddle and narrowly dodging a falling tree. Brightflame was by my side, but my saddlebags came loose and fell off. I didn't have time to be concerned about that at the moment. The timberwolf was still on me. It snarled and pounced again, and I rolled for a second time and ended up beneath it.

"Hurragh!"

I struck its hind leg with Brightflame, and the beast let out a pained howl, but no blood flowed. My sword was embedded in the wolf's leg like a hatchet stuck in a trunk. Clearly I wasn't a very good lumberjack, but the flame appeared to be catching, so I left my sword there for the moment and ran out from under the monster. I wasn't expecting it to flop on top of me like the Asylum demon had, but I didn't want to give it the chance either way.

The timberwolf snapped its head around to snarl at me. I leapt over a fallen tree, and rolled under another. The timberwolf dashed forward and snapped at me with its jaw, but missed. I whirled around and quickly backed away from it while charging my magic. Its back leg was becoming engulfed in flame, and the timberwolf was now walking with a limp. It whined and whimpered between snarls.

It was the first time I had attempted pyromancy since the Asylum. With my new magic, I'd been worried that it would feel different and weird, but it was the same as ever. Fire was primal, barely any more complicated to summon than telekinesis. I let off a flurry of flames in the timberwolf's direction as it lunged at me, the fire blindingly bright in the dismal forest.

The timberwolf screeched and barrelled into me regardless, its whole body wreathed in flames. I cursed as a great mass of burning wood pinned me to the ground, crushing my armour against me. I soon became keenly aware of the heat. For a second, I couldn't breathe, but the timberwolf rolled off of me, screaming like I'd never heard a canine scream before. By some miracle, I was able to pull myself up and stagger away.

I looked back at the burning timberwolf as it thrashed and kicked in its death throes. Brightflame was still stuck in its leg, so I wrenched the sword free. By now, the beast was just crying out in pain, no longer even paying attention to me. I closed my eyes in a grimace. The only thing I could do for it now was to finish it off. I summoned my magic to me and unleashed another gout of flame. Even through my eyelids I could see the following flash, my flames as brilliant as they always were.

The timberwolf soon went silent, leaving only the sound of crackling flames filling the forest. When I opened my eyes and wrenched off my helmet, the forest was nothing but orange and black, and my nostrils were filled with smoke. My surcoat was ruined, so I tore it off my scorched and blackened armour and threw it in a puddle.

I tried to turn back to Madam Zecora's hut.

"Hurghk..." A sharp pain in my legs and chest made me wince. "Yep, that's what I was afraid of..."

I nearly collapsed, but before I knew it, Witchcraft and Lawless were by my side. I didn't even see where they'd come from. They propped me up and walked me back towards the hut, while the grey wolf jumped around excitedly and ran circles around us. Sweat dripped from my brow, and I was distantly aware of Zecora shouting something in rhyme, but I paid no attention to it.

"By all the gods," Witchcraft grumbled. "That's two forest fires you've started in less than an hour now. What is your special talent anyway? Arson?"

Soon I was lying back on Zecora's bed, protesting weakly as they stripped me of my armour and wrapped me in bandages in all the places I'd been bleeding from. I complained that I didn't have time to sit around and wait to recover, but they ignored me. Witchcraft applied a spell to numb the pain, and Madam Zecora gave my wounds a healing salve before she bandaged them. Then she went to prepare a potion of some kind. While I lay on the bed and contemplated my own stupidity, the wolf came up and started licking my face. He didn't stop until Lawless pulled him away.

"Easy, boy," he muttered.

"Is the wolf yours?" I asked, trying to ignore the itching feeling under my bandages.

"'Fraid not, friend. Chaos Paladin named Howler raised this one. He kept wolves for our warband. But he was one of them that died on the western road, and Sif here's the last of his litter, far as we know."

Sif half-climbed onto the bed and nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck.

"He's... awfully affectionate for a wolf raised by Chaos Paladins..."

Lawless shrugged. "He's only a pup. Four month old, maybe. Barely had any time to grow mean."

Witchcraft and Zecora soon returned with the potion, so Lawless and Sif had to move aside. After a single sip, I spat the bitter drink back out.

"Bloody hell, that tastes like cat piss!"

"You had better drink up," said Witchcraft, glaring at me. "Timberwolf breath contains a minor neurotoxin, and if there's any of it in your system, you'll be mentally impaired for days."

Zecora solemnly nodded.

"The toxin’s impact fades in time, but its effects are not benign. Even to dragons it's often dire; I once knew a young one who forgot his fire."

I grumbled and finished off the potion in one gulp, trying my best not to taste it.

"Eugh. Next time, just kill me and let the curse purge my system instead."

"You were the one who insisted on fighting the timberwolf," said Witchcraft. "You have only yourself to blame. Although, credit where due, your pyromancy was quite impressive. Particularly that last spell. I've never seen fire burn so brightly. Did you say before that pyromancy was your talent?"

"My talent encompasses pyromancy."

Madam Zecora passed me another bottle of mystery liquid.

"Drink up, brave knight, and drink it deep, that you might heal while you sleep."

I sullenly took the bottle. All I could do now was hope that Pilgrimage and the brothers could survive a little longer without me, if indeed they were still alive at all.

"I'm not a knight," I said, before gulping it down. This one at least was more palatable.

The sleeping draught took effect quickly. I had no sooner put the bottle down than a feeling of drowsiness began to overtake me.

"So..." said Witchcraft, leaning over me. "What is it really then?"

My eyelids were too heavy, so I let them fall and took a long breath.

"Fire is light..." I mumbled. "I make it burn brighter..."





The interior of Zecora's hut was the same in the dream as it was in reality, but it wasn't like the Fire-Keeper's Dream at all. Every other time I'd dreamed since coming to Equestria, I went to a quiet and peaceful place. But here, the air was filled with the sounds of battle. Dying screams mixed with the clangor of steel and the baying of wolves. I put my hooves to my ears to block it out, but it did nothing to stop them.

I ran out of the hut and into the forest, but there was no battle outside. There were only motes of light floating between the trees. I darted through them in search of an escape, but the sounds of battle only became more vivid. When I passed by the lights, they would flicker, briefly becoming Cleric-Knights and Chaos Paladins just long enough for me to see them get cut down or savaged. I wept as I ran, and tried to close my eyes to the horror, but I couldn't do that either.

Finally, a hoof gripped around my neck and pulled me back, holding me still.

"Calm yourself, and focus on my voice."

I couldn't stop crying.

"Sir Iron...?"

"They are only phantoms. Psychic echoes of the souls slain in the waking world. Ghosts cannot hurt you if you do not give them life."

I focused on him as he said, breathing deep and trying to block out everything but his voice.

"It's horrible, Sir Iron... I can feel them."

He released his grip. "Then close yourself to that feeling. These are just shadows. The dead have no use for your pity."

The screams and the sounds of battle were starting to fade. The forest remained the same, and the lights did not disappear, but I was feeling calmer now.

"...Is this... Are we outside the Fire-Keeper's Dream? Is this Darkwraith territory?"

Sir Iron shook his head. "No. The Everfree is protected as surely as the Acres are. Despite the deer's aversion to the flame, a bonfire does burn in Thicket, and a powerful one at that for its protection to reach this far out."

"Huh? But I thought the deer were heretics or in league with the Darkwraiths or something?"

We headed back towards Zecora's hut. The motes of light between the trees still flickered into images of death, but I tried to ignore them as best I could. It was easier when I had something else to focus on, though some of them still made me cringe away.

"Much misinformation is spread about the deerfolk of Thicket. In ancient times, they did indeed have communion with Order, the Dark Lord. Yet, I can promise you that the Darkwraiths are no friends of the deer now, and Thicket's current spiritual practices are... unorthodox. They venerate saints and souls these days, and the Way of White are not being honest about their motives."

"Then what are they after, if not the red eye orbs?"

Sir Iron shrugged.

"Many things, I would imagine, but their designs are obscured from my view. Most of the White crusaders truly believe that they're here just for the orbs, but the commanders are a different story. I cannot see their full intentions, but I do not trust them. Especially not the bishop. His dreams disturb me."

There was no bonfire inside Zecora's hut, so we gathered around the cauldron instead. It was empty in the dream, and the firepit was cold, but it would serve.

"Hey, Sir Iron, I've been meaning to ask... I have a red eye orb of my own in the waking world, but it's never with me when I fall asleep. How do I bring it into the Fire-Keeper's Dream?"

"Press the yellow eye inwards, and the orb will transform you into energy and transport you to the Dreamscape. It will come with you then. Do the same in the dreaming world to return to reality. But it is not the same as falling asleep. To dream is to project your consciousness into this world, while leaving your body behind. To use a red eye orb is to come here truly, in body and soul. You cannot bring a red eye orb into the dream merely by sleeping."

"Hmm... So... if I was asleep, and dreaming normally, and then used a red eye orb in the dream to go back to reality, what would happen? Would there be two Firelinks?"

Sir Iron cleared his throat.

"Not in the sense that you're thinking of. A red eye orb changes your physical form into energy, but that energy remembers what it used to be, and this 'memory' can be used to change you back when you return. A projected consciousness, however, was never physical, and so has no memory to reconstruct a body from. The orb would try its best to make you physical, but you would return in a magical construct of sorts, not a body. Inevitably, such a thing would fade and disappear within minutes, like a spell wearing off, and you would die."

"Riiiight... gotcha. Not doing that then."

I slumped over, leaning on the rim of the empty cauldron and staring into its depths. For a while, I waited there, contemplating my mission and the forest I found myself in. I thought of the time I was wasting back in the physical world, waiting to heal, and the peril that Sister Pilgrimage must have been in at that moment. But then I had a thought, and sat up suddenly again.

"Hold on... Sir Iron, you're always able to find me. You tracked me through Ponyville, and you found me here in the forest... Would you be able to scout the Everfree and find Sister Pilgrimage and the minotaurs for me while I'm stuck here?"

Sir Iron paused.

"...I could..." he said carefully. "However, it is not as simple as that. Thicket truly does have red eye orbs, and they do use them; the Forest Guardians patrol the dream to make sure that other orb-users can't sneak into their city. They don't usually venture far from Thicket's dream counterpart, nor do they like to do battle in dreams, but if they feel threatened, then they will. I doubt that defeating dream-walking deer would be beyond my abilities, but... it would be a complication."

"Okay then. Fair enough."

"...I never said I wouldn't do it. I only want you to understand the risk of what you ask of me."

I hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"But... if it's a risk to you... I couldn't ask you to put yourself in harm's way."

"You have already asked, and I have already stated my willingness. You need only confirm it. I will be quite content to play my part."

"But why would you be willing to risk your life just because I asked you?"

"Chivalry and duty are part of being a knight. Gallivanting off into the forest to rescue fair maidens is expected of me. You, however, are just a pony in armour; I would like to know your excuse."

I shrugged.

"Unresolved grief issues, I suppose."

Sir Iron chuckled.

"Firelink, you have greater potential than you know. I've thought so ever since Ponyville. You may be an average fighter at best, but maintaining your sanity through seven deaths is an impressive feat, and to do so with minimal magic and while coping with a loss is truly extraordinary. Mental fortitude like yours is rare indeed. I don't often have faith in Frampt's chosen, but I do in you. So long as you continue to walk the path you're following now, I will gladly lend you whatever aid I can provide."

"Uhh... wow..." I averted my gaze, face flushed. "Thank you, Sir Iron. That's... high praise, coming from you. I'm honoured. But... this has nothing to do with finding the goddesses or kindling the Fire. I'm just trying to save some people."

"Heroism is heroism. You are growing into your role, one way or another. I will find your crusader friends for you. Stay with Madam Zecora for now, and I will have answers for you by nightfall. Until then, take your rest, and heal."





The dream was boring without Sir Iron there to make conversation with, but fortunately, the time passed quickly. When I awoke in Zecora's bed, the blankets were covered in wolf hair, and Sif was lying atop me, sniffing my horn. He whined when I shoved him aside to get out from under him, so I pacified him by scratching behind his ears.

I still ached in places, but my bandages had been removed, and my wounds had been replaced with scars. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and found Madam Zecora by my side.

"Did your slumber help you heal? The salve’s effects are slight, but real."

"I'm a little sore in places, but I don't seem to be bleeding anymore."

Lawless and Witchcraft soon appeared by the bedside as well, the former giving a subdued smile while the latter grinned and leaned on her staff.

"Good to see you still alive," she said as she tipped her giant hat.

"No thanks to you," I grumbled. "Next time I'm fighting a giant monster, maybe step in and help?"

Witchcraft rolled her eyes.

"Oh, the follies of youth. I made my intentions clear before you ran out there. If you choose not to listen, then on your head be it. But you had the situation well in hoof, whatever your other faults. I will say again, I found your pyromancy particularly impressive."

"Thanks," I said with a grunt as I climbed out of bed.

"I would be more careful in future, though. A talent for bringing light sounds very poetic, I grant you, but the flame that burns twice as bright also lasts half as long."

Lawless stepped aside to let me through back into the main room, where Zecora's cauldron still bubbled away with its garlicky aroma. Sif leapt off the bed and followed after me, pacing around the cauldron in circles before lying down next to it.

"...Well... fires are known to fade in quiet," I said. "And I certainly have no intention of hollowing meekly."

"As well you shouldn't. I only ask that you act with caution in future. You have great potential. So don't go and die over nothing."

My armour and weapons were lying on the table in the other alcove, so I went over to inspect them. The burn-marks on the metal were gone, but the surcoat was still missing from where I'd torn it off, and it remained dented and scratched in places. Either its enchantments were for cleaning but not repairing, or there was a limit to how much it could fix itself. My saddlebags, slightly damp, also rested on the table. A quick inspection revealed that nothing was missing.

While I looked through them, Lawless slinked up next to me and waved his hoof in front of my face. I slowly turned to him.

"I'm going now," he mumbled.

"Are you?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You burned the timberwolf king. The screaming tree it came from won't have enough darkwood left for a whole pack. I'm gonna take my chances on the west road. I just wanted to say... thank you."

I decided that I liked Lawless of Leota. It was odd seeing a Chaos Paladin be quiet and sincere, but it was nice.

"Any time, friend."

"One last thing... I don't know about this Sister of Solace or her protectors, but I didn't see 'em in my group running east. If they aren't back at the Acres or on the western road somewhere, I'd wager they died at the southeast camp. I'm sorry."

I chewed my lip.

"It's fine. Thank you for the information. And best wishes on your journey back."

Lawless soon skittered away, disappearing without a single word to either Zecora or Witchcraft. I had been expecting him to at least take the wolf pup with him, since he had belonged to a fellow Chaos Paladin, but he left him behind too. Not that Sif seemed to mind, lying by the cauldron's warm firepit. In fact, he was asleep less than a minute after Lawless left.

I lay down next to the cauldron myself, and idly stroked the grey wolf.

"Hey, Witchcraft..." I said, beckoning the wizard over. "Out of curiosity, if timberwolves are magical constructs controlled by evil trees... why wolves?"

She sat down on a stool next to me.

"Ah, there's a question..." she said fancifully. "What do you know about souls?"

"I know that they're made of magic, and that we all draw power from them. I know that if we lose them, we become undead. I know that they leave the body when a non-undead dies, and the Way of White says that dead souls go to Paradise, but I don't know how true that is."

Especially given that the Four aren't true gods, and that Paradise is just some place behind a door.

Witchcraft chuckled.

"Mostly true. The soul is magic, that much is certain. Or rather, it is a construct of magic, formed around a consciousness. You see, consciousness is not magical. It is an emergent property of a complex system, such as a brain. Your awareness, 'you' as you recognise yourself, partially exists inside your brain, but consciousness has byproducts. Thoughts and emotions create psionic energy as a waste product, and this energy is responsible for a number of natural phenomena. Emotivores such as changelings can feed on certain strains of it. Some species have telepathic abilities. And of course there's the Dreamscape, which is made out of the stuff.

"However, the most important property of psionic energy is that it creates impressions of the things that form it. Violent deaths leave behind psychic echoes because of the strong emotions felt in the moment. Psychic impressions can be formed of concepts as well, if they're in our collective thoughts often enough. But most importantly, impressions are formed of our consciousnesses, and they mix with and have continuity with the original. Thus, your consciousness simultaneously exists as both a purely physical entity inside your body, and as something more ethereal inside your soul. And when the body fails, it is through the soul that we live on."

I blinked.

"...Huh. So... the consciousness in our brain can live on without a soul, and the consciousness in our soul can live on without a brain?"

"Correct."

I suddenly felt a deep and overwhelming sense of self-pity. Somewhere out there was another Firelink, living on inside my original soul, and he was stuck with Patches of all people. Perhaps my own situation wasn't so bad after all; I was probably getting the better deal of us two.

"So, wait, this is interesting and all, but how is it related to my original question?"

Witchcraft smiled.

"Screaming trees are thaumivores. They eat wolf souls."

"Oh." My mouth opened slightly, and my eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Ohhhhhhh..."

"Indeed."

"So... what happens? The trees eat wolf souls, and then the wolves... possess it?"

"After a fashion. There's a reason that emotivores are much more common than thaumivores. Eating magic is dangerous work if you take it from other creatures. To consume a soul is to drink in that soul's essence, and depending on how powerful the soul in question is, it can be hard to... digest. Feral changelings eat souls all the time, but it's not a problem for them, because changelings are emotivores as well as thaumivores; they can digest psionic energy just as well as magical. But the screaming trees are... well... less fortunate."

"Huh..."

"Anything else you were curious about?"

"...Yeah, there was one other thing... Um... if we do live on inside our souls... what does normally happen to us after we die?"

"Reincarnation," Witchcraft said bluntly. "The dead soul finds a nice fetus to occupy and gets born again as a squalling nuisance. We don't tend to remember our previous lives, but personalities are more or less consistent, and incarnations are usually all the same gender... I'm told that cutie marks in ponies are also similar across incarnations, but that might just be hearsay."

I wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not.





"I have good news and bad," said Sir Iron, leaning against the wall of the hut.

I turned the red eye orb over in my hooves, inspecting it from every angle. It had worked just as he had said it would. I still felt as if I was dreaming, in that lucid way that I always did in the Fire-Keeper's Dream, but this time the orb had come with me. And yet, it was behaving strangely. For reasons that Sir Iron couldn't explain to me, the red eye orb seemed to come to life in the dream. Its red outer shell, solid in reality, was like squishy warm flesh in the dream, and the mad yellow eye with its red pupil looked around and blinked occasionally, as if alive.

"Bad news first then," I said from my place at Zecora's table, as the orb and I stared at each other.

"I'll start with some of the bad. Great Victory and Small Nicety are both dead. They were among the slain at the southeast camp. By the ghosts they left behind in the dream, they appear to have died shortly after Sir Penance abandoned the party. If it brings you any comfort at all, they died valiantly."

I grimaced.

"Next, the good. Sister Pilgrimage escaped, and lives still. "

"Truly?" I said, sitting up and putting the red eye orb aside.

"Truly. Not all of the survivors of the initial raid fled north or eastwards. Sister Pilgrimage was among a very small number who fled south. She made it all the way to the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters, once the home of Celestia and Luna before they took up residence on Mt. Canterlot. She is currently safe in hiding, if shaken, and she does have a food supply of sorts. I estimate she could survive in the castle ruins for a while longer if need be."

"That's excellent!"

"Wait before you celebrate, because I have more bad news to finish with. Just as Lawless of Leota is the last of the group that fled east, Sister Pilgrimage is the only survivor of those who fled south. There is a reason for this. The land between the southeast camp and the castle is all deer territory. It was the worst possible direction for her to have run. Very few crusaders went south at all, because those who did ran almost directly into Thicket. Sister Pilgrimage only survived by virtue of being a changeling; she disguised herself as a small animal to escape their patrols."

My face fell.

"Damn. So if I wanted to rescue her, I'd have to go through enemy territory?"

"That would be the obvious approach, but I wouldn't recommend it. It would be better for you to go back west and skirt the edge of the conflict zone. The crusaders are currently occupying most of the wooded areas, but Froggy Bottom Bog thus far remains untouched by the fighting. If you went south through the bog, and then east from there, you might be able to avoid the worst of it. I cannot guarantee that you would be safe from the other monsters of the forest, but you would be better off against them than facing the might of Thicket."

"Hrrmmm..."

"The choice is up to you."

"No, there is no choice. I'll go through the bog. If Pilgrimage is safe for now, then she can wait."

"Very well."

I picked up the red eye orb in both hooves, feeling its fleshy warmth.

"So... I press the eye again? Won't that hurt it? Does it feel pain?"

"I honestly do not know if it's even alive at all, but one way or another, it's the only way out of the dream."

"Right... Well, I'll see you again soon, I suppose. Thank you for all your help, Sir Iron."

"I was happy to serve. Good luck with your journey."

I pressed a hoof into the eye, and was immediately sucked into a world of darkness and silence. It had been the same going into the dream in the first place. Sensory deprivation came with the territory of travelling between worlds, and I wasn't used to it yet. I tried to scream, but I didn't have lungs. I tried to move my body, but I had no limbs. For those long few seconds, I was numb to everything.

Finally, the world came back in a blinding flash and deafening thunder. I collapsed on the floor of Zecora's hut, sucking in a breath like a drowning pony finally breaching the surface.

Witchcraft clapped a paw on my back and hauled me up.

"Are you okay, pony?"

I nodded rapidly.

"Good," she said, walking me over to the table. "What news of your friends?"

Sif was awake again, lying down beside the cauldron and chewing on a bone. I didn't know where he'd gotten it, but I could guess. When Witchcraft and I took our seats, he sat up and padded over, tail wagging and a hopeful expression on his face. I scratched behind his ears as we talked.

"The minotaurs are dead, but Sister Pilgrimage lives. She ran south."

"Ooh. Oh dear."

Zecora soon joined us, passing us each a flask of water.

"Deer is right, my sharp-toothed friend. Thicket's at the wood’s south end. If that indeed is where she fled, she’s lucky that she isn’t dead."

I took my flask and gratefully gulped down.

"She's not in Thicket," I said. "Sir Iron says that she made it to the Castle of the Two Sisters. I'm going to go back through Froggy Bottom Bog to avoid the major warzones."

The old mare rubbed her chin.

"As sure a path as any, true. Though still too much, perhaps, for you. The bog’s a fearsome hydra’s home; it’s nowhere I would go alone."

I turned to Witchcraft. She put her hands up.

"Don't look at me. I've had quite enough adventure already. If you're so determined to die fighting monsters, kindly leave me out of it."

I sighed and stood up. The aching had mostly subsided, but not completely. I hoped it wouldn't impede me too much.

"In that case, I will bid you both farewell for now. We're already edging into setting day, and I want to reach the castle before it gets dark."

"Will you wait before you leave?" Zecora went to the back of the alcove and rifled through her shelves. "I can help you here, I do believe."

She came back with an iron chain necklace, brown with rust, and presented it before me.

"White knights often come through here, to gain my aid against the deer. They pay with trinkets such as this, but it’s a gift that I won’t miss. The chain contains a cloud-walk spell, but lets one walk on water as well. It’s sure to help you in the bog; to let you run, instead of slog."

The rusty chain didn't look like much, but Zecora had no reason to lie to me. And I certainly liked the sound of walking on water. I bowed my head and floated the chain around my neck.

"Thank you very much, Madam Zecora. I appreciate the help."

"I’m glad to help you with your quest. May your path be always blessed."

Witchcraft folded her arms and sighed.

"Okay, maybe I have something that can help too... Madam Zecora, would you have any quills or parchment around? Pony, what's your preferred reading language?"

She soon set to work scribbling out something on a blank scroll, before rolling it up and passing it over to me. I unfolded it to take a look. Written instructions and mathematical equations lined the bottom of the parchment, while the top contained diagrams of shapes and matrices, some new to me and some familiar.

"...Is this a spell?"

Witchcraft put down her quill and sat back.

"Indeed. 'Fireform,' it's called. For most career sorcerers, the spell is middlingly difficult to learn, but those who have an affinity for fire will obviously have an easier time of it. Since your special talent lends itself well to pyromancy, you might be able to perform it with practice."

I rolled up the scroll and packed it into my bags.

"What does it do?" I asked as I started putting on my armour

"It sets you on fire."

Witchcraft held a completely straight face. I raised an eyebrow as I fitted the chestpiece.

"...Any particular reason I'd want to do that...?"

She shrugged.

"Well, while you're on fire, you're also immune to fire, so I assume it would be useful for taking up a career in dragon-slaying. You seem suicidal enough to try that. Alternatively, you could always glue some fake wings on yourself and pretend to be a phoenix for the rest of your days."

"Right... well, thank you, in any case. If I'm ever in a situation where setting myself on fire seems like a good idea, I will remember this."

Witchcraft smiled at me.

"You amuse me, pony. I've enjoyed your company."

I finally finished up, putting on my saddlebags and hanging my shield and scabbards on last.

"Likewise. Thank you for having me as well, Madam Zecora."

The old zebra opened the door for me.

"It has been quite the afternoon. Farewell, Firelink; come back soon."

"Right. Well, pleasure to have met you all..." I looked down at the wolf and stroked his head. "You too, boy."

Sif yapped and rushed out into the burned remnants of the forest, running between the blackened trees. I frowned as he started rolling around on the ground.

"Um... Sorry. I didn't know he was going to run out."

"The wolf still isn’t my concern. His care’s a thing for you to learn."

I blinked.

"Wait, hold on, I can't take care of a dog! Or a wolf! That's a huge responsibility, and I don't know the first thing about it!"

"I would not force the duty on you—no, not me! But Sif’s made his choice, as I think you can see."

The grey wolf came bounding up to me again, his once-clean coat now filthy with soot and ashes. He tackled me to the ground and send me sprawling, and started licking my face again.

"Off! Off, boy!" 

He stepped back and stared at me with his big amber eyes, and smiled that wolfish smile of his while happily wagging his tail. I pulled myself up and groaned, shooting Zecora a look. Witchcraft stood in the doorway of the hut, smirking at me.

"Congratulation, pony! You're a daddy now! Make sure to walk him frequently. Growing pups need their exercise. Oh, and also be aware that he will kill lots of small animals. Don't discourage this, because he'll starve otherwise."

I glowered at them both, and pointed a hoof in their direction.

"Kill, puppy! Kill!"

Sif made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, and rolled over on his back, looking up at me. Zecora and Witchcraft both laughed. I sighed and rubbed his belly.

"Good boy," I muttered.





"Have you got a screw loose? Or is it your… animal intuition?"




> [April Fools Guest Chapter]: Sunlight for Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Everfree Forest was a fascinating place, one which defeated my very sense of time. The canopy overhead obscured both sun and moon, immersing Sif and I in a constant blanket of darkness, even during daylight. And the cold that accompanied the darkness was everlasting and inescapable. More than once, I conjured a tiny flame to keep myself warm, whilst envying Sif his thick coat.

My wolf companion kept pace with me, trotting along with his tongue lolling out, biting periodically at my heels for some unfathomable doggish reason. It was annoying, but tolerable – if truth be told, the little nipper had grown on me, and I was grateful for his presence on my journey. I wasn't used to being on my own just yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be used to it. Having a friend, even a non-sapient canine friend who liked to make eye contact with me while he pooped, made everything so much easier.

Thus it was that I, with a clear mind, a good friend, and a sense of purpose, strode toward my destination, intent on liberating Sister Pilgrimage from whatever plight had befallen her. And no power in the world would come between she and I.

"Halt!"

Except for the three dozen angry deer that emerged from the forest and encircled Sif and I before we could react. Sif bared his teeth, and I braced myself, taking hold of Brightflame, but not drawing it. I had no quarrel with these deer, after all, and I'd sooner not provoke them into starting one with me.

The largest deer, in front of me, had a shaggy white mane that cascaded past his face and withers both, and a proud rack of antlers, each one tipped with steel. He glared at me with eyes that smoldered, and opened his mouth to speak.

Sif began to howl.

The deer and I made eye contact for the duration of the howl, his eyes narrowing, his mouth creasing into a frown. When Sif finally finished, the deer tried to speak again.

Only for Sif to preempt him with another howl.

In the midst of the howl, another deer approached the first, leaning over to whisper in his ear. The first deer nodded, and spoke again, shouting to be heard over Sif.

"Your wolf is not a local one – 'tis plain by its awoo. I must insist that you silence it."

"Sif," I hissed. "Don't awoo."

Sif lowered his muzzle, and his awoo tapered into a mere woo, before ending in a wary rowrow. 

With Sif quieted, the deer had leave to speak uninterrupted.

"I am Brador, Prince of the Forest. You and your foreign wolf are under arrest for crimes against deerkind."

"Arrest?" I echoed. "I've committed no crimes against any kind, let alone deerkind!"

"Yet you were spotted in the camp of the Chaos Paladins during a skirmish, twelve hours ago. Do you deny your presence?"

Twelve hours ago?! I thought it had been days, at least! This damn forest...

"Okay, I don't deny that. But I took no part in the fighting!" I swallowed hard, beginning to fear for my life – and after I'd just gotten a new lease on it, too.

"Look, the only reason I was in that camp was because I was looking for a Way of White pilgrim who's lost in these woods, and I'm trying to find her. If you'll let me pass, I promise you, I'll take her far, far away from here, and never trouble any of you again."

Of course, where I would take her was a question I had no answer for. She had a mission of her own, after all. But surely, anywhere was better than this maddening forest, war zone that it was.

The deer that whispered to Brador approached him again, leaning his muzzle so far into the Prince's ear that it almost looked as though he was trying to caress his brain with his tongue. But he withdrew after a moment, the two of them exchanging a look and a nod. Then Brador spoke to me.

"As happens, we know of this pilgrim. She pollutes the forest with her presence, but has done nothing to harm us. If it is your intent to remove her, then we will waive the charges against you and allow you safe passage."

I felt relief, and released my magical grip on Brightflame.

"Conditionally." Brador held up a cloven hoof. "You will disarm. You will travel under escort. You must cooperate with your escort, at all times, or face swift and immediate execution. And, before you are allowed to do anything else, you must bear witness at a trial."

"A... trial?" I asked, baffled.

Prince Brador nodded. "Against one whose crimes are too heinous to name outside of court. I was on my way to this trial, at our glorious stronghold of Deerglaic, to offer testimony against the accused. You will add your voice to mine, and afterward, you will be allowed on your way."

I eyed Prince Brador skeptically. "And if I decline?"

"You will die. Gruesomely." No deer should have a smile as predatory as his. "Then you will die again, in an even more gruesome fashion. You will continue to die, until you go hollow, and then you will be sent to the purgatory, where the Undeerd Chariot shall gore your shambling carcass endlessly upon his many fearsome antlers."

I could think of no more pointless waste of the gift Sunset had given me. With no other options, I swallowed my pride and fear both, and nodded my agreement.

The deer approached, stripped me of my weapons, and shoved me roughly to get me moving. So, once more, Sif and I journeyed through the forest, far less alone than when we set off from Madame Zecora's.

All things considered, I think I preferred Sif's company to that of the deer.





Chapter 8:
Sunlight for Life





It was a tense, uneasy walk to Deerglaic, like an awkward family gathering where nobody speaks for fear of inadvertently setting someone else off and starting a no-holds-barred brawl, driving Nan to her cups in tears and leaving me behind to clean up all the missing teeth and telekinetically-flung cake and ice cream in the aftermath. Only, unlike the festivities surrounding my Cute-ceñera, I couldn't even seek solace in Nan's secret supply of bathtub-brewed whiskey (or "WISKEE," as the labels on all the jugs read), and had to grit my teeth and endure the silence sober.

The deer's numbers seemed to fluctuate as we traveled; they melted in and out of the trees and the underbrush, almost as though they were one with the forest. The most I ever counted at a time was thirty. The fewest, seven. Prince Brador was the only deer who never left, even as his entourage vanished and reappeared seemingly at will. He was always a few paces ahead of me, always with at least one bodyguard close by, and moved with long, graceful strides, holding his head high.

I was tired of being in the dark – literally and figuratively – so I decided to engage my captor in conversation. If participating in this trial would get me closer to Sister Pilgrimage, I'd endure it, but I wanted, and kinda needed, some answers first.

I plucked up my courage, and approached. His bodyguard moved to block me, but the Prince stopped him with a hoof, and beckoned me closer.

"You weather the forest well," he said. "We witnessed your battle with the wooden pack, you know. It is rare to find a pony who kills timberwolves with your level of aplomb or ferocity. Legend has it that there was a member of the Apple clan who, long ago, slew an entire pack to rescue a baby dragon, but she never went as far as killing their godfather."

"You saw the fight?" Brador's praise left me feeling strangely bashful – and uncomfortable. "Then you know it wasn't all me. I had help."

"From a sorceress bitch and a foreign mongrel-pony. Both are beneath our notice. You are not."

"I didn't see you leaping in to help out, your majesty. The sorceress bitch and the mongrel, on the other hoof, did."

"You show me deference and snideness in the same breath." Brador grunted. "Ponies. Such a fascinating dichotomy."

That, I had no idea what to make of – I had a feeling there was some sort of joke, or reference, that I wasn't in on. I decided to interpret it as a compliment, however.

"Well, your majesty, since we're becoming such fast friends—"

"We are not."

Our budding relationship appeared to have hit a snag.

"Well, I would like to befriend you, at least. Perhaps, in the name of friendship, you might share some details about this upcoming trial. I can't say I'm not curious."

"I told you," said Brador darkly, shooting me a dark look, dark eyes narrowing in the darkness. "The accused's crimes are too heinous to name outside of court. Least of all, to a pony like yourself."

I tilted my head. "But wouldn't it help your case, the more I know?"

"I fail to see how. Both the verdict and the punishment have already been decided. My testimony is little more than a formality, and you need only answer questions in the affirmative."

Definitely odd that they were going through this whole song and dance if the case was already decided.

"I'll say whatever you want me to say, and confirm whatever you want me to confirm. But if the trial is already decided, and is – I assume – largely for show, then I can tailor my testimony if I know more about the case." Now, Brador looked at me with curiosity instead of scorn. "In what regard?"

"Oh, think of the possibilities!" I grinned. "You tell me the accused's crime, and I can fluff it up with all manner of horrid details to help seal the deal. Add some truly lurid and graphic tales of how they wronged you and deerkind. Become a part of the show, so to speak, and make an even grander one."

Brador's grin – slimy this time, not predatory – spread across his face. "Young pony, I believe I'm beginning to change my opinion of you. You are positively deerlike in your thinking."

I felt insulted by that.

"Very well, then. I will tell you of the accused's crime." Brador raised his head to stare into the forest, and his face became grim as he spoke in a low, gravelly voice.

"Another nana disappeared."

"A... another nana?" I asked. Surely, I'd failed to hear him right.

"Yes. The seventh in as many weeks. You must understand, young pony, that we hold the life of the nana as paramount in the natural world. The nana is a creature who is pure, and wholesome, and who must be protected from those who would wrong her."

Brador's lip quivered, and a single tear slid down his cheek.

"Those of my clan swear a solemn oath to preserve and protect all nanas, everywhere. Deer, pony, bastard mongrel-pony, bipedal bitch, even the birdcats who circle the skies and defraud us by selling us inedible biscuits – the life of the nana is sacrosanct, no matter what form it takes. Any degenerate who offends our most basic sense of respect for the sacred nana must be held accountable."

"So the one you're trying is the one responsible for the disappearance of all those nanas?"

Brador chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, dear pony, no. This is simply someone we found and decided to pin the blame upon. But by putting on a show trial for the degenerate, and executing them gruesomely, we will deter the true culprit – whoever they may be – from carrying out any further assaults on the nana population. Thus do we, of the Ball-Touchers, maintain harmony and security for all nanakind."

I was beginning to notice some patterns in the ways deer conducted business: They liked doing things gruesomely, and they liked doing things stupidly. I could spend the rest of my life detailing all the assumptions and fallacious logic they were employing in this highly wasteful and inefficient endeavor, but that would probably make for boring reading.

So, instead, I just smiled and nodded.

"Sounds brilliant, Prince Brador," I said with false cheer and enthusiasm. "But tell me, just what are the Ball-Touchers?"

Brador's eyes cerulean orbs twinkled twinklingly, and he smiled at me. "Look around, and behold the Ball-Touchers. Since ancient times, we have touched balls to one another, and we shall persist in our ball-touching until we have achieved our goal, and wiped the foul Mound-Pounders from these woods once and for all!"

The other deer hissed and jeered.

"Mound... pounders?" I felt certain by then that he was just making stuff up.

"Yes," said Brador. "The Mound-Pounders – they who fought the Chaos Paladins – are degenerates, cut from the same cloth as the nananapper. They stand for all that we do not."

"Such as?"

"They love papas, not nanas." Brador shuddered. "But more grievous than that is their stance regarding mounds. Can you guess what that is?" He gave me a significant look.

I frowned. "They pound them, don't they?"

"They pound them!" Brador snapped, making me jump. "Once, long ago, we were united in our mutual reverence for mounds, but when the world was set aflame and our ancestral fortress of failure, the Earthen Peak, was thrown down, we faced an irrevocable schism. We of the Ball-Touchers wish to create mounds by rolling balls of dirt, touching them together, and gradually forming larger and larger mounds, until the Earthen Peak has been restored to its full glory. Then, we can ride its Transcendent Elevator to the Iron Keep in the Heavens, and reunite with the All-Nana, who will lead us into an age of enlightenment!

"But the Mound-Pounders – they know only death. And disease. And destruction and decay. They know nothing of the noble art of ball-touching; they wish only to pound mounds, until fissures in the earth are created, and their blasphemous god, the Hole-y Knightpapa, can rise into our world."

Brador looked at me, his eyes no longer dark. Now they were bright. Not twinkly-bright, like before, but, like, fire-bright.

"You understand now, yes? You understand why we must protect the nanas of this world?"

I understood that they were a bunch of morons and loonies, and that I wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible, and that the best way to accomplish that goal was to not call them morons and loonies and just smile and nod whenever possible. So I smiled and nodded, and Brador seemed satisfied.

Then he started talking some more about touching balls, and pounding mounds, and about papas and nanas, and truth be told, it was all very boring – somehow, moreso even than Sir Penance's lecture on the Way of White.





The next sensation I felt was one of weightlessness, my stomach and other innards rushing into my throat and the scruff of my neck oddly sore, as I plummeted from an unimaginable height and landed on my butt with an owie sensation.

"What the Coyotl?!" I snapped at Brador, who stood beside me, smirking. "What was that for?"

"We did nothing," said Brador smarmily. "You fell asleep as I spoke, and you were carried here."

I blinked – I mean, his lecture was boring and all, but I didn't think it was quite that boring. This damn forest...

"Then how did I get here?" I asked. "Did you carry me? One of your bodyguards?"

"We would never demean ourselves by carrying one such as yourself upon our backs and/or hinies." Brador glanced behind me. "Your wolf, however..."

I felt something slimy drag across my nape, and Sif's hot breath over the wet spot. Then came a rowf, right in my ear. I sighed and reached back to scratch him on the bridge of his nose, and he panted happily.

Good boy, Sif, I thought gloomily.

"Rise now," Brador commanded. Rise, I did. "Gaze upon Deerglaic," he ordered. Gaze, I did. "Marvel at its splendor," he suggested.

That much, I did not do.

For as overhyped as Deerglaic had been, for all of Brador's pride when speaking of it, I was expecting something grand, something to surpass anything I'd yet experienced, either in our out of Equestria. What I saw was an unfinished mess of moss-covered buildings surrounding a circular arena that looked like it had been cobbled together at the last second from paper mache and ferns. There was light overhead, at least – Deerglaic was in a clearing, and the sun shone brightly down upon it – yet even that looked oversaturated and weird.

Also, looking down at my armor, my surcoat was a completely different color. It looked almost purple in the light of Ponyville and the Everfree, but in Deerglaic, it was a rather vivid shade of blue. It was nice, don't get me wrong, but the difference was just really, really odd.

"Well?" said Brador, pride ringing in his voice. "Do you marvel at it?"

"I... something at it, alright."

Brador chuckled, and slapped me on the back. "Come, pony. Court is now in session."

Brador's guards urged me forward with a poke in the butt, and I scampered, glaring furiously at them as I passed into the arena. A concrete gallery was raised around a deep pit, with tunnels built into the sides of the arena, presumably running underground. The gallery was filled with deer, who shouted and yelled and made uncouth remarks about my parents' genitals. They were easily the most tolerable bunch of deer I'd met so far.

We reached the pit's center, and Brador silenced them with an upraised hoof.

"My friends!" he boomed. "For too long have we suffered the slings and arrows of outsiders and profligates! We wage war with the ponies and minotaurs who encroach upon our wood, and the Mound-Pounders who pervert our way of life. We suffer their existence, as we have throughout our history. But the crimes which this one has committed upon the sacred nana—"

The crowd roared in fury, and Brador waited a moment before signaling for quiet again.

"The crimes they have committed upon the sacred nana are beyond the pale." He thumped me on the back, hoof clanging loudly against my armor. "With me now stands a pony who will bear witness to our triumph over the one who offends the nana. His testimony will seal the fate of the profligate, and we shall all watch as she is torn, limb from limb, and flung piecemeal to the vulture and the crow!"

He flung his hooves open wide. "Can! You! Dig it?!"

Judging by the shouting and the stomping, the deer did, indeed, dig it.

"Then let the festivities begin!" Brador turned toward the tunnel. "Bring forth the nananapper!"

From the tunnel came the sound of squeaky, unoiled wheels. A shape emerged into the light: a wooden platform, on four rusty wheels, pulled by a burly deer jailer, at least twice my size. My eyes went to the armored mare on the platform, chained to it by all four limbs.

Sunset Shimmer's eyes found mine. And there is not a word for the cocktail of emotions which flooded through my body at the sight of her.

"This," said Brador, his voice turning ugly. "This is the fiend who offends our forest so – a monstrous pony witch who harvests the wrinkly uteri of our nanas and brews from them a foul potion to restore her youth and virility. Do you deny the charges, pony?!"

"Unequivocally," Sunset cried. "I wasn't even in the forest when your outriders caught me; I was miles away from here, and heading toward Canterlot! Firelink, tell this guy—"

"She lies!" Brador's voice boomed, to more cheering from the crowd. "She poisons your ears with her guile and tries to turn you against the rule of justice! Witness-Pony, tell the crowd. Tell them how you saw her cutting a helpless nana, cackling about brewing youth-potions from her remains. Tell them of her many heinous crimes: how she bit the head off a bunny and chewed it open-mouthed, or how she defrauded the foals of the East Side Orphanage of their every penny, forcing them into careers of thugging and pimpery! Tell them of her tenure at Mareval Comics, and her plan to retcon Captain Amareica into a horse-Nazi!"

Shrieks and jeers of mockery rained down on Sunset from the gallery. She stared into my eyes, pleading.

"Tell them," Brador hissed into my ear. "Or is the life of your pilgrim worth less than hers?"

What Brador didn't know – what he could not have known – is that I would literally murder every single pilgrim in the world with my own hooves if it meant saving Sunset Shimmer's life. I'd certainly murder an arena full of deer. Even if – no, especially if – more than half of them were fawns.

But my sword was still with Brador's bodyguard, and out of telekinetic reach. I could see Brightflame, slung over the bodyguard's back, mocking me. So close, yet so far... If it came to a fight, I'd have to do without it, at least at first. Luckily, my pyromancy was nothing to be sneezed at, and even chained up and helpless, I was sure that Sunset's magic could tilt the scales.

How odd that she hadn't tried anything against them yet.

Still, I preferred not to pick a fight as my first recourse. Perhaps diplomacy could yet win the day and set us free. Surely, not ALL deer were as bull-headedly stupid as Brador; surely there was someone I could reason with. So I leaped upon the platform, Sif scrabbling up beside me, and lifted my head to address the crowd.

"Firelink," Sunset hissed. "What do you think you're—"

"I got this. Don't worry." I smiled confidently at her. She just flattened her ears.

"My friends!" I called to the deer, circling the platform to make eye contact with as many as possible. "You cannot have this mare! She is innocent of the crimes you lay on her shoulders. I swear to you, Sunset Shimmer is a knight whose honor and courage are beyond reproach. She would never stoop so low as to murder a helpless nana. She's a vegetarian, and a philanthropist – the very spirit of generosity. And I don't think she even reads comic books!"

I chanced to look at Sunset. Her ears lifted, her cheeks were reddening, and despite our circumstances, she smiled warmly at me. The look on her face turned my innards to butter, and suddenly, I lost my train of thought. So I started shouting whatever came into my mind.

"And have you seen that ass?"

Sunset's face went ashen, and her smile vanished, and despite my own rising sense of horror, I just could not look away from her.

"I mean, hot damn, that is one fine ass. Like, scale of one to ten? A twelve, no problem. I'd let her ascend my pyromancy flame and make contact with my Brain of Mensis. I'd treat her blobby thing with care, know'm'sayin'?"

The deer began to stomp and shout again. I was beginning to wonder if they knew how to do anything else. Finally, I looked away from Sunset, at Brador, who stared at me, eyes narrowed. The Prince signaled for silence again.

"The court is moved by your eloquence, Sir Garbage Pony. We see the valor in your words and deeds – 'tis plain, as plain as the redness creeping across every visible inch of the accused's face as you objectify and sexualize her to all in earshot. Indeed, even we of the forest can appreciate dat fine pone booty." I felt relief spread through me. It stopped when I realized that Brador's dark expression was unchanging. And when I noticed his entourage moving closer to us, lowering their antlers dangerously.

"But the crime of nananapping is not one which can be forgiven so easily," Brador growled. "And you have perjured yourself in open court by allying with the nananapper. Thus, you shall share in her fate. Make peace with your pagan whore goddess!"

Lesson learned. Diplomacy was for idealistic fools and doo-doo heads. I began to pyromance.

"Stay close to me, Sunset," I whispered.

Sunset glared at me in exasperation, flinging her forelegs open as wide as they would go (which, considering they were chained to a board, was not that far) and rattling her chains.

Suddenly, Brador's eyes widened. His body swelled and bulged all over, and his mouth opened in a silent scream of pain. My stomach lurched – I could see what was about to happen.

Brador's body burst open in a shower of blood and viscera. Only his head remained intact, its expression of agony and fear frozen eternally on its face. A pony's body uncurled until it stood at full height, towering over all present. Then, with a grotesque snapping and cracking of bone and sinew, it reared onto its hind legs, its body undergoing a metamorphosis before my very eyes. Its back legs thickened, its hooves expanding and flattening into feet. Its shoulders broadened, and forelegs lengthened, while fingers sprouted from its front hooves. Its hips and torso bulged and rippled beneath its roughspun brown tunic, until it took on a form not unlike that of a heavily muscled minotaur.

Only the familiar blood-stained mask adoring its face remained to give away the identity of the Legend.

The deer turned away from Sunset and I to surround him, as onlookers shrieked and fled in droves.

The champion of the Chaos Paladins bore arms and equipment which were completely different from what he'd brought into battle against the Mound-Pounders. Besides the aforementioned trousers and tunic instead of armor, he wore boots and gloves of the same material, and Brador's head as a hat. On his back was a rusty scythe and pickaxe, with handaxe slid into his belt. He fondled its shaft delicately with meaty fingers before unslinging the pickaxe from his back.

"OUT OF THE WAY FUCKING NOBLEMEN."

The Legend swung with blinding speed, embedding the pickaxe's point in the temple of the deer jailer. Then he pivoted and slung the body into the thickest part of Brador's entourage, bowling over three deer and sending the rest backing away frantically.

"PEASANT COMING THROUGH!"

In the chaos (har!), I leaped from the platform and galloped toward the bodyguard with Brightflame, drawing it as soon as I came into reach and swinging for his neck. The bastard sword went snicker-snack, and his headless body collapsed, the wound cauterized by my fire-magic. Then I galloped back to the platform, where Sif was fending off an enterprising deer who seemed to have misplaced the right half of his face.

Sunset watched with baited breath as Brightflame hammered through each of her chains. Once free, she leaped from the platform.

"My weapons," she cried. "Still back in that tunnel!"

"We'll come back for them later," I shouted, thrusting Brightflame through the chest of Sif's deer. "We don't want to be caught in the middle of this, Sunset, trust me!"

A deer lunged at Sunset before she could argue further. She tensed, horn glowing, but the Legend's handaxe suddenly appeared in the deer's skull, and it fell limply to the ground, skidding through the dirt until coming to a stop at the base of the platform.

"WHEN IM DONE IM PULL UR CART 2," the Legend, ankle-deep in deer corpses, boomed. More deer were rushing into the arena, some from the tunnel, and the Legend drew his scythe to face them. "I KNO HOW SENITIV UR NOBLEMAN HANDS R LMAO!"

I looked smugly at Sunset, who growled and nodded her assent. She paused to wrench the axe from the skull of her would-be attacker, giving it a tentative swing and shaking off droplets of gore in the process.

Then we were off, the three of us, racing back the way I'd come with Brador. Any deer who approached us met a swift end, by axe and sword and wolf-tooth, as we ran into the forest, leaving Deerglaic behind.





We didn't stop running until we were deep in the Everfree again, swathed in darkness and utterly out of breath. Beneath the heavy noise of my own panting was the gentle tinkling sound of rushing water – looking up, I realized that we'd had the incredible fortune of stopping beside a stream. Sif loped over to it for a drink while I plopped down and sucked down breath after breath of air to refresh myself.

Sunset was beside me, nowhere near as tired as I was. I figured she'd been at this far longer than I; naturally, her constitution would put me to shame. She also, not to put too fine a point on it, looked flat-out gorgeous. Despite maintaining a constant sprint while wearing full armor and dragging the remnants of four heavy chains attached to all her limbs, she was no worse for wear. If anything, the constant action looked like it had been good for her.

"It's comforting to know that some things have withstood the passage of time," she panted. "The deer, for instance, are just as infuriating as ever. You'd think that a few centuries would improve their disposition, but no. They just have to ruin the day of whoever they come into contact with."

Sunset looked at me with a sheepish smile, her eyes finding mine.

"Sorry you got dragged into that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you were there, but I wouldn't wish the company of the deer on anyone. Although I wouldn't wish the Legend on anyone, either," she added with a shudder.

I just stared, transfixed, at her gorgeous emerald orbs as her lips moved and pleasant sounds emerged from them.

A few moments of awkward staring passed. Then she coughed. "So I heard what their leader said to you – you're looking for a pilgrim, huh? I still have my own mission to consider, but after Deerglaic, I figure I owe you one. How about I help you find her? It's the least I can do to repay the favor."

"You don't need to do anything to repay me. You don't owe me anything. You showed me, a complete stranger, kindness at a moment when you needn't have, and saving your life was the least I could do to repay that debt. The truth is, Sunset, that you're very special to me. And while I doubt you feel that way about me, I know you'd walk through Hell for me, because that's just the kind of pony you are. So please, don't ever say that you owe me anything."

Or that's what I wished I'd said – what I'd thought about saying. What I'd wanted to say. But I was so transfixed by her gaze that, while making the journey between my mind and my mouth, my eloquent declaration of love became jumbled and twisted and lost, and ultimately emerged as something very different from what I'd had in mind:

"You should demonstrate your gratitude by letting me put my tongue in your mouth!"

Sunset's eyes flew open, and her face went beet-red. I heard a pained awoo from the stream, and glanced over – Sif had his paws over his eyes in a show of exasperation.

Man, wolves really were smart. And super empathetic, too!

"...Is that really how you think of me?" said Sunset in a shocked whisper. Emotions ran over her face. Hurt, and shock, and perhaps she looked a little hungry, too. I dunno. "All that stuff you said back at Deerglaic, I thought... I thought that was some kind of tactic. I don't know what to say to this."

"Can't say anything if my tongue is in your mouth!" I blurted. "Solves quite a few problems all at—"

Sunset slapped me. It stung. It may also have cracked a tooth. It certainly cracked my heart in two.

"I thought you were better than that." Her eyes were red and tearful, and her voice shook with fury. "I knew about your stupid little crush, but dammit, you were sweet, and helpful, and a good friend when I needed it, and you never forced the issue. If only I'd known that you were only playing the part to get under my tail. How dare you?!"

Somehow, her fury was incredibly arousing.

"Stallions. You're all alike." Sunset laughed bitterly, rising and turning away from me – I had the distinct feeling that she was talking to herself more than me. "You're all a bunch of pricks with legs, but every now and then, you find a decent guy to go along with the rest of the package. Thought for sure you were one. I guess the joke's on me, huh?"

"Sunset—"

Sunset's horn crackled, and I felt it in my best interest to shut up.

"You saved my life, and I still mean to return the favor," she said with deceptive tranquility. "I'll help you find your pilgrim, and I'll get you both to safety. But after that, you and I are through, and I never want to see you again."

I just stared at her, my mouth working in silence as I tried to form an apology. When none came, Sunset snorted with disgust and drew her scavenged axe. I thought for sure she was about to kill me, but she turned away.

"You look exhausted. Get some sleep." Sunset strode off some distance to lean against a nearby tree. "I'll stand watch."

Sif brushed past me, shooting me a look with his lips curled back from his muzzle, before joining Sunset and settling down beside her, resting his muzzle against her hoof. She stroked the back of his neck.

That left me to creep over to the stream and collapse, crashing immediately into slumber.





The dream offered me no reprieve.

I sat in that peaceful setting for what felt like hours, replaying Sunset's words in my mind, over and over again. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't – could ponies just not cry in the dream? That seemed odd.

So I settled for keeping my face buried in my hooves and groaning like I had a particularly bad tummy ache. That is, until the clatter of heavy armor jarred me from my self-pity, and I looked up at Sir Iron, whose rainbow wig and clown nose brought me none of their usual joy.

"Wuss on yer mind there, lad?" he slurred. "Y'look like ya jus' saw yer mum an' yer dad makin' the forty-five degree angle of marital bliss over yer kitchen sink, or somethin'."

Okay, first of all, gross. Second, his breath reeked of liquor, and his words were a nigh-incomprehensible mess of half-pronounced consonants and overemphasized vowels. I wrinkled my nose.

"Are you drunk?"

"Mm? Oh, yeah. Met an invisible bird in th'woods while I was chasin' yer Sister Pillager. Said she wanted the sparkliest an' twinkliest thing I had on me. So I gave 'er my Estus, an' I got a flask o'bourbon from 'er."

He produced said flask and took a swig from it – impressively enough, without removing his helmet.

"That sounds incredibly irresponsible," I pointed out. "Also, impossible, going by my understanding of the dream."

"Ah, save it fer the lore video, son." Sir Iron patted me on the back. It felt like being smacked by a ham clad in chainmail. "Now, what's gotcha feelin' yer oats? Tell ol' Uncle Iron, now."

I sighed, and told him everything – meeting Brador and his entourage, the fight in Deerglaic, the appearance of the Legend, and, finally, Sunset's words of outrage. Sir Iron listened in silence, nodding along, occasionally sipping from his flask. Once, he honked his nose, and it made a horn sound – I have no idea why he did that; he just did. I guess that's what you do when you have a clown nose, though. Couldn't really hold it against him.

When I finished my tale, Sir Iron offered me his flask. I took it, and drank. The liquor was the worst thing I'd ever put into my mouth, and I spat it out immediately.

"Bitch," Sir Iron muttered. Then he cleared his throat. "Well, son, it sounds like ye fucked up right an' proper, y'did."

"You're telling me." I sniffed – my nose was running, even though I wasn't crying. Part of me was curious what other bodily functions did and did not work as intended in the dream – like, could I poop, and not pee? Or vice-versa? Man, I can't wait for the lore video about that.

"So," said Sir Iron. "We're in agreement on that. Question then becomes, what are ye gonna do about it?"

"...I just need to own up to my mistake," I said firmly. "I need to speak to Sunset, and apologize for how I acted. She needs to know that I love her as a person, not as a sex object, and if I just speak from the heart and ask for forgiveness, I know that she'll—"

"No, no, no, son," Sir Iron laughed, his head clanging as he shook it mirthfully. "Ye got it all wrong. Yer mistake wasn't that ye treated Sunset like a piece o'meat. Yer mistake was in yer delivery. Y'didn't take it nearly as far as you could have – neigh, should have."

I blinked. "Uh...?"

"I know what I'm talkin' about, lad," Sir Iron continued. "I belong to an ancient covenant – the Men Going Their Own Way – and we know all about the ancient art of mistreating mares for the purposes of porkin' them. It's all in the delivery, y'see – y'need to be so awful to 'em, and break their self-esteem so utterly, that they'll be so desperate and self-hating that they'll even look at someone as schlubby and unattractive as you as someone worth givin' a roll in the hay."

"Sir Iron, that sounds..." I frowned at him. "Highly questionable."

"Pshaw," pshaw'd Sir Iron. "Y'say that now, but I know how desperately ye wanna get between Sunny's buns. An' if ye don't listen t'me, ye never will. I'm yer last clear chance at scorin' with the Phoenix Knight, y'hear? Now, are ye in, or out?"

Well, when he put it that way...

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," I said uncertainly.

I had the uncomfortable feeling that Sir Iron was grinning at me from underneath his helmet...





The forest was still when I awoke – no rustling underbrush, no chirps of birds or other animal sounds. Only the gently burbling stream gave voice to the Everfree. I blinked and rose, stretching out my legs, and looking around for my companions.

Sunset was where I'd left her before I crashed into slumber, seated in the grass with the axe floating beside her head. Sif was curled up next to her, and she stroked his ears gently. The wolf's ears pricked, presumably at the sound of my stirring, and he watched me warily without rising to greet me. It made me wonder whose respect for me I'd damaged more – Sunset's, or Sif's.

Well, nothing for it but to forge on ahead. If Sir Iron was right, I'd surely win my way back into Sunset's good graces by lowering her standards enough to simply step over them without any hassle. I could only assume that the same would hold true for Sif. But then, how does one neg a wolf? Can one neg a wolf?

A question for philosophers, not lovers. And what am I, if not a lover? Can't spell "pyromantic" without...

Well, you know. You get it.

Sunset heard me walking toward her, and looked over her shoulder at me. "Hey... um. Sleep okay?"

I shrugged.

"I guess it's hard to get a good night's sleep in the Everfree. Although you did sleep through the night. I think." She cracked her neck and rose to meet me, though Sif stayed where he was. "I went ahead and covered your watch; you seemed like you needed the rest more than I did. But I have no idea if you actually slept through the night, because I have no idea whether or not it is night. Or day. Stupid Everfree."

That was certainly chivalrous of her, but she didn't need to do that – I'd be happy standing watch in her stead while she slept. Not in the least bit because, that way, I'd be able to watch her sleep.

"Listen..." Sunset looked down at her iron-braceleted hooves, biting her lip. She'd hacked what was left of the chains off during the night. "I've been thinking a lot about what I said to you. I was harsh, and I'm really sorry, Firelink. It's just, stuff like that's happened to me a lot, you know? It's hard for me to meet guys that are interested in more than just sex. Even before the world went to shit. But that's no excuse – I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about you, or the content of your character, because you really haven't been anything but decent and genuine with me. And, who knows, maybe I did something to lead you on..."

Behind her, Sif yawned and started licking his crotch.

"One way or another, we're gonna have to separate after your pilgrim is safe," she went on. "But I don't want that to mean the end of our friendship, despite what I said. I don't feel the same for you as you feel for me, Firelink. Nor, um... nor can I feel that way for you." She blushed. "But I'll try to be respectful of your feelings from now on, as long as you respect my personal boundaries. So..."

Sunset Shimmer extended her hoof toward me, a shy, hopeful smile on her face. "Friends?"

I looked at her hoof. At her face. At her vivid jade emerald sea-green ocular spheres. At her curving lips, at her horn, and her mane. Especially at her mane.

For once, the first thing to spring into my mind was not a stammering, awkward, inappropriate remark. It was a deliberately planned and impeccably delivered inappropriate remark.

"Your mane looks a lot better than usual. Probably because you haven't been packing it inside a helmet. Maybe if you cut it short, you wouldn't have to restyle it every time you suit up for battle." I paused. "Also, I think your butt got smaller, or something."

Sunset just stared at me, and I watched as her eyes drained of any semblance of fondness or goodwill toward me.

"...I'll assume that this is a new coping mechanism. And I'll give you a free pass. For now."

Then she turned, spinning the handaxe idly in the air, and trotted back the way we came, Sif falling in beside her.

"We're going back to Deerglaic for my gear now. Stay close, and keep your sword ready."

I watched her hindquarters sway as she walked, and allowed myself a little hoof-pump of victory.

Yuss. Back in the game.





I was NOT back in the game.

All throughout our walk back to Deerglaic, I paid Sunset back-hoofed complements and veiled insults. I named haircuts that would be more flattering for her, suggested that her chainmail would look better if she scraped some of the rust off of it, compared her to other mares I knew back in Brittlesworth with varying degrees of favorability, and offered a critical evaluation of her horn length.

She barely listened. To any of it. It was like she was tuning me out, or... or something! Sif would respond occasionally by paying me a pitying glance, or growling and shaking his head, but the target of my negging remained steadfastly un-negged. I was beginning to doubt Sir Iron's wisdom – after hours (or... minutes? Days? This damn forest...!) of constant negging, Sunset Shimmer had yet to allow me to get all up in that.

Ugh. By then, I was starting to wonder if I shouldn't just give up on it. Apologize to Sunset for acting like a clod, admit that I was following the advice of a mysterious spirit with whom only I can communicate, and hope she still liked me enough to forgive me. I doubted it would lead to the hours (Days? Months? Years? This damn forest!) of fornication that I had fantasized about since first glimpsing her, but it was better than permanently alienating her.

...Actually, I just thought about it, and no, it wasn't. Still, being in her good graces didn't exactly hurt my chances. Between that, and rescuing Sister Pilgrimage in a sufficiently masculine and badass manner, I put my odds at giving Sunny the D at around fifty-fifty.

I began by sidling up to her, between her and Sif, and clearing my throat. "Hey, Sunset?"

She looked silently at me from the corner of her eye.

Okay, silent treatment, but at least she was making eye contact. That was a start. I took a deep breath.

Then Sif stopped walking, his ears pricked and his head cocked to one side. His nose twitched as he sniffed curiously at the air. I froze – that couldn't have been a good sign. Sunset noticed, too, and drew her axe.

Sif turned his head to point his nose at some trees to out right. His lips curled back from his teeth, and a soft, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. I squinted, and could barely make out a shape in the darkness, obscured by the tall grass and the shadows of the trees.

I drew Brightflame, pushing Sif behind me. Sunset stood alongside me with her axe held close in her telekinetic grip.

"Come out where we can see you," I snapped.

The shape turned out to be a pegasus, who floated above the tall grass with firm, powerful strokes of her wings. She wore battered-looking golden armor, and gripped in her forehooves an old spear whose point had long ago gone to rust. Her coat was an off-white color, and her mane some sort of orange-ish, with a yellowish stripe running skunkwise through it. She glanced between Sunset and I, her eyes narrowed and wary.

"That's Canterlot Guard armor," Sunset whispered to me. She raised her voice to address the pegasus. "Where'd you get your gear? Are you E.U.P.?"

"I'M asking the questions, Bacon-Hair," the pegasus snapped, jabbing her spear forward once.

Bacon-hair! That would have been a perfect neg; if only I'd made the connection sooner! I cursed my short-sighted foolishness.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," said Sunset, lowering her axe so the head pointed away from the pegasus. "And I've known enough guardsmares to know that, if you're legit, then you're on the up-and-up. Nopony here's a bandit, and we're all just trying to get through the damn forest, so... how about you put the spear down?"

"Nuh-uh," the pegasus growled. "How's about you put your spear down?"

Sunset and I exchanged a look, briefly glancing at one another's weapons. We didn't need to speak to know what the other was thinking – this mare was clearly a nincompoop. It was nice to see that, even with things between us on somewhat rocky footing, we could at least agree on the blatantly obvious.

Then Sif nosed his way between the two of us. The pegasus saw him, and her narrow gaze widened. "No way," she whispered.

Without waiting for a command, and ignoring my shout of protest, Sif bounded toward the pegasus. He leaped through the air with his jaws open, and collided with her, knocking the spear from her hooves, and knocking her to the ground. Sunset and I rushed forward to pry him off...

And found him licking her face joyfully as she laughed, ruffling his ears and his thick neck fluff.

I grinned at the sight, sheathing Brightflame. "Well, if my wolf likes you, then I suppose you can't really be all that bad."

"Your..." The pegasus, breathless with laughter, extricated herself from Sif's lick-barrage, and rose to sit on her haunches. Her face was wet and slick with slobber, and Sif continued to sniff her all over, his tail wag-a-wagging swooshily.

"Your wolf?" she said at last. She patted Sif on the muzzle as his nose investigated her ear. "Sif's my wolf. We got caught in a skirmish between a Way of White warband and some frickin' Mound-Pounders. Been lookin' everywhere for him ever since."

My ears flattened – ruth be told, I sort of stopped listening when she said "my wolf." The rest, I only gathered by reading her lips.

Oh, by the way, I can read lips. Just FYI.

"Anyway, you still ain't wrong, but you got it backwards. If he hasn't killed and eaten you both yet, then you're probably not so bad." The pegasus turned her head toward the trees and whistled. "Hey! Maid Mumbly! You can come on out now; it's safe!"

Sister Pilgrimage stepped into view. Her robe was torn and stained with grass and mud, and she trembled as she walked, but she was alive, relatively unharmed... and, evidently, safe as houses. In the company of some random mare. Who also was the true owner of my wolf.

"...How?" I sputtered. "How did you find her?!"

"Oh, I met some guy in black armor and a clown get-up while I was doin' my invisible bird routine," said the pegasus nonchalantly. "He mentioned there was a nubile young cleric lost in the woods and pointed me in her direction. Said I had a fifty/fifty shot at scoring with her if I rescued her, but to be honest, all she's done is whine about death and bloodshed since I pulled her out of Mound-Pounder prison – The ImPound, it's called."

"So many heads crushed," Sister Pilgrimage whispered, trembling. "So many lives snuffed out at spearpoint. The golden mare with the fiery mane slew dozens of deer to save poor Sister Pilgrimage."

"Yeah, yeah, bloodshed this and smashed genitals that. You're so super traumatized. I get it. Done this song and dance already." The pegasus pulled out an Estus flask and took a quick swig, sighing. "Least this one ain't speakin' in rhyme."

I approached Sister Pilgrimage, but she drew away from me, whimpering.

"I went looking for you, you know," I said softly. "I was going to save you. I'm sorry I couldn't do it. But make no mistake, if I had, it would have been totally kickass, and any mare who saw it would have swooned at the sight!"

The pegasus looked at me with half-lidded eyes, and licked a bit of Estus off her lip. "I think the only pony you're foolin' with that routine is yourself, pal. Now, your friend, on the other hoof? I could see her gettin' the job done..."

She took a swaggering step toward Sunset, her skeptical look seamlessly transitioning into suave, self-assured sexiness. "Provided she's as badass as she is cute."

Outrageously, Sunset blushed and giggled, waving a hoof bashfully. "Oh, stop that."

"Ah, you like it. Don't pretend you don't." The pegasus leaned in close to whisper into Sunset's ear, and she blushed and giggled harder.

"Your face looks like a fat red tomato when you blush!" I blurted.

If nothing else, that successfully killed the mood. Both the pegasus and Sunset looked too confused to flirt.

"...Anyhow," said the pegasus at length. "Sister Stressed-to-Impress here says she had some kinda mission to do, I think, but she won't say what it is, and truth be told, I don't think she was plannin' on pickin' it up after what just went down. So I'mma take her to Dragonfall – I know a real good shrink who can get her the help she needs."

Sunset blinked. "In Dragonfall? That place was a hellhole before the undead curse! It's probably a literal hell in an actual hole by now!"

"Where've you been, sister?" said the pegasus, smirking. "Dragonfall's practically paradise now – it's the one place in the world that the curse improved. Plus, Sif's dad is the mayor."

Sif barked happily.

The pegasus took another swig of Estus and offered it to Sister Pilgrimage, who shook her head and shrank away. Shrugging, the pegasus put her drink away, nodded at me, and flashed a rakish grin at Sunset.

"So we'll be seein' you around, I guess. Look me up in Dragonfall if you're ever in the neighborhood, babe. C'mon, sis, Sif. We'll stop for cherries on the way."

Sif barked again. He trotted away without even looking at me, but did pause to lick Sunset's cheek, before he, the pegasus, and Sister Pilgrimage disappeared from my life forever.

Sunset stepped toward me, looking sympathetic. "You okay there, kiddo?"

I had trouble believing it. After the way I'd spoken to her, and mistreated her – deliberately, on most counts – since reuniting with her, she still showed respect and consideration for my feelings. I truly did not deserve her.

The stressful torture was too much for me. I needed to crash into slumber.

"I'm going to sleep," I declared, flopping onto my side.

"Uh..." Sunset looked around quizzically. "You sure this is a good time or place?"

"I'm going. To sleep."





"I can't believe it, Sir Iron," I moaned. "Everything's gone wrong ever since I left home! My best friend is dead, I blew it with the love of my life, and the last possible way I could've won her over – rescuing Sister Pilgrimage – was done for me by some pegasus bitch in rusty armor! Who also took my wolf with her, and did to Sunset in two minutes what I've failed to do in all the time I've known her! What am I supposed to do now?!"

Sir Iron grabbed me by the shoulders, and I looked into his visored and clown-nosed helm, waiting for the words of wisdom to spill from his wizened mouth.

Instead, he cuffed me across the face, and I yelped.

"Get ahold of yourself, son," Sir Iron snapped. "You wanna die a virgin? Just keep cryin' like a pussy; you'll get there."

I sniffed, rubbing the spot on my face he'd struck. "Well, actually, I'm not gonna die a virgin, if nothing else. Back in Brittlesworth, I used to ask Notch to shapeshift into a sexy lady for me to practice on, just every now and then. Only his bottom half, though. I liked to see his bug-face when we did it."

Sir Iron stared at me in silence. Then he cuffed me again, harder, sending me sprawling to the ground with the force of the blow.

"What was that for?" I whined.

"Good measure." Sir Iron wiped his hoof off on the grass, then rubbed it over his rainbow wig with a sigh. "Look, son, all's not lost just yet. The Men Going Their Own Way have a certain... ritual... that can be conducted in situations where a fellow's too much of a bitch to pick up a filly the normal way."

"A ritual?"

Sir Iron nodded. "A foolproof way of seducing a mare, and keeping her seduced. Wrapped around your hoof, one hundred percent."

"Well, why didn't you say something sooner?" I snapped, standing up and shrugging off my self-pity.

"Because the ritual requires a powerful connection to the pyromantic arts," said Sir Iron gravely.

"Did you fail to notice all the pyromancy I've been doing over the last couple of—"

"And it requires you to give up your pyromancy to complete it."

"...Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Sir Iron snorted. "You need to know the stakes, lad – you do this, and there's no getting back what's lost. Can you still go through with it, knowing that?"

A difficult decision, indeed. Could I go through with it? Sacrifice my pyromancy for a shot with Sunset? Pyromancy was different from sorcery or miracles; a pyromancer's power comes from the inside. The very flame wielded by a pyromancer is a tangible piece of the pyromancer's own soul. Giving that up would mean giving up a part of myself.

Then again, Sunset was really hot.

"I'll do whatever it takes," I said firmly.

Sir Iron stared at me in silence again – for a moment, I thought he was going to hit me a third time. Instead, he just nodded.

"Then prepare yourself," he said. "And I shall impart unto you the ancient knowledge of how to brew an Estrus Flask."





When I woke, it was dark – not that the lighting conditions meant much – and Sunset was fast asleep nearby with her axe propped against her flank. I could only assume that she tried to stand watch, and failed, having spent the entirety of the night before wide awake.

Good. The more tired she was, the easier this would be.

I shucked off my armor, to avoid waking Sunset with my clanking and jangling, and crept toward her on the tips of my hooves. The Estus flask hung on a belt around her middle, tantalizing me with its sunny goodness. Fitting, I suppose.

Carefully, oh-so-gently, I eased it off of Sunset's belt with my levitation, and floated it toward myself. The flask was warm to the touch, and the light burned so bright that it almost hurt my eyes. I squinted, resolving to power through it.

This was it. This was what separated the boys from the men from the men going their own way. Not that I know what a "man" is, really, but Sir Iron felt it imperative that they go their own way.

I uncorked the flask, shut my eyes, and conjured my pyromancy flame for the last time.





I awoke to the feeling of a warm body snuggling into my legs and pressing against my belly. A soft nose nuzzled along my jawline. I inhaled the rich scent of mare, and grunted.

"'S too early, Notch." I pulled away and rolled onto my other side. "'N I'm not in th'mood."

"Oh, give me five minutes," a mare's voice tittered sexily. "I guarantee, I'll change that."

My eyes shot open. That voice – that titter – carved a light through the groggy haze of sleep and rousted me wide awake in an instant. The memories came back to me: Sir Iron and the ritual, brewing the Estrus flask and sneaking it back onto Sunset's belt, falling into a dreamless sleep... Which meant that wasn't Notch trying to initiate our customary, no-homo game of Kindle the Bonfire – obvious, really, since Notch was dead and gone – but the object of my affection and the target of the Estrus ritual.

I cautiously rolled over and beheld Sunset – fully armored, for some reason – lying on her side, flashing a sultry smile and bedroom eyes at me.

"H-Hi, Sunset." I swallowed. "S-Sleep well?"

"Would have slept a lot better with a big, strong stallion to cuddle up with," she breathed, scooting closer and nuzzling into the crook of my neck. "How silly that I didn't think to do that until just now."

"Really," I said. My hoof rested a few inches above Sunset – I had absolutely no idea whether it would be appropriate to touch her just then. I'd never been this far with a mare who wasn't actually Notch from the top half up. "Um... so why didn't you?"

"Why, because the very thought of enduring your touch made me sick to my stomach, you silly colt," Sunset said, playfully shoving my chest.

Everything inside went cold and withery. "Oh."

"Of course, now I can't think of anything more appealing," Sunset pulled away and frowned, the corners of her mouth crinkling adorably. "It's funny. I took my morning swig of Estus – better than coffee, don't you know – and all of a sudden, my opinion of you as a potential sexual partner flip-flopped faster than a Canterlot parliamentarian at a flapjack cookout."

"That's a very odd and unrelatable analogy, Sunset."

"Yeah, I guess you had to see Parliament in action once or twice to really understand it." She shrugged. "I probably could have thought of something more accessible if I wasn't absolutely brimming with lust and sexual tension right now. How about the two of us do something about that for a while, and we'll see if that helps me conjure up a better one?"

"You're... propositioning me?"

"Uh-huh."

"For sex."

"Hot, sweaty, partially armored pony sex."

"...For the purposes of coming up with simpler, and easier to understand, flip-flopping comparisons."

"Does the why of it really matter that much, Firelink?" Sunset leaned in closer, until the tips of our noses were touching. "All that matters is you have me, in front of you, completely willing and able – very, very able – to satisfy your every perverse, twisted desire. Why think too hard about it?"

She tittered again. Her lips brushed against mine, the air between us all but crackling as our breath mingled together...

...And I immediately pushed her away and bolted backward, scrambling to my hooves and panting.

"Sweetie?" Sunset climbed to her hooves. Her flushed, sweat-lined face was both the most attractive sight I'd ever beheld, and the most repugnant thing in the world. "What's the matter? Don't you want to rip my clothes and ravage the area?"

What was the matter? This was exactly what I wanted, right? A mare, a real life mare, attracted to me. To me! Firelink Soul! The least eligible bachelor in Brittlesworth! The colt who made fillies cry simply by speaking to them! And it wasn't just some cobbler's daughter or elderly fishwife, but Sunset Shimmer, the Phoenix Knight – a legendary hero and a veritable buffet of sex appeal, who didn't reek of cod! Why wasn't I all over that?!

Then it hit me. Her coy looks and suggestive body language and explicit offers of sexual favors were having the exact opposite effect on me. I wasn't all over that... because I didn't want her.

And I didn't want her precisely because she wanted me. Sunset was only appealing in the abstract. The idea of pursuing her, and being constantly rejected, only made me pursue her with greater vigor. When she actually returned my affections, I found that... well...

I found that I needed to be far, far away from her.

I turned around and bolted into the woods as fast as my legs would carry me, not thinking or caring about how lost I was making myself.

She chased after me, of course, calling my name. I flattened my ears, clenched my jaw, and sprinted even faster to stay away from her. Trees and greenery flew past me in a blur as I ran, ducking under low-hanging boughs and plunging into tall grass in an attempt to put as much distance between she and I as possible.

I found a pile of rocks, amid a tangle of yellow weeds, with a pony-sized gap right in the middle. What luck! I plunged into the gap and curled my legs against my body, trying to make myself as small as possible, as Sunset chased vainly after me.

"Firelink! Firelink, come back! We don't have to wear the armor if you don't want to! Firelink!"

Gradually, her voice and her hoofsteps faded as she passed me by, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd successfully dodged the arrow of a potential sexual conquest with the mare of my dreams.

What a bittersweet feeling it was. Sir Iron was going to be so disappointed when he heard.

I uncurled and tried to stand, to leave my rocky hiding spot, when suddenly, the rocks dissolved into smoke, and an iron cage door slammed shut in my face! I scampered back, my rump coming into contact with the back end of a cage. I looked up, and down, and saw – yep – cage. Definitely cage.

The cage rocked unsteadily as it lifted into the air. Frantically, I looked about for an explanation, and saw the shaggy white mane of Prince Brador through the cage's latticework – the back of the slain prince's severed head.

The head turned around, and I found myself face-to-face with the dead-eyed mask of the Legend.

"GUD SESON 4 CROPS. BET U DIDNT EVEN KNO THAT."

I fainted.





Peer close enough at the passage of time, and you notice the patterns that emerge – the subtle ways in which the threads of fate are woven together into a cohesive whole. Events play out, from beginning to end, and then they play out again. The same, every time. We are bound by this yoke.

One such thread, one such pattern, one such yoke: Me falling unconscious, being carried somewhere like a sack of potatoes, and then waking up when I'm dropped onto the ground like a baby in the grasp of an inattentive Trottingham nanny. Whether by Brador and his entourage, or by the Legend and his back-cage, it seems that Firelink Soul is doomed to be dropped from things onto surfaces, for as long as the cycle should persist.

Such is our fate. As surely as the dark that churns within ponykind.

Anyway, I said "oof" when I hit the ground. Thus far, I had determined that cages were my least favorite means of transportation, moreso than fiery phoenix-talons, storm-tossed boats, and haycarts (I've never trusted haycarts, and I never will).

The Legend had brought me to the bottom of a deep, rocky chasm, lit with torches on the walls. Around me were piles of hollowed corpses, reeking of the sickly-sweet stench of decay. Peering closer at them, I could discern graying manes and toothless mouths, and even the forms of many different races. Ponies, yes, but griffons, too – and minotaurs, and batponies, even a zebra.

Nanas, I thought. Nanas of all kinds. Brador was right after all.

The Legend towered over me, staring at me through the dark, empty eyeholes of his mask. He shucked the cage off his back, and it thudded to the ground, making me start.

"WHEN IM DON," he boomed, "IM GONNA GROOM TH FUK OUT OF THOS CROPS."

It took me a moment to realize he wasn't speaking to me. A gentle chuckle filled the cavern, a laugh that echoed in the deepest chasms of my memories. I knew that laugh. I knew that voice.

"The wheel turns, and the cycle nears completion," said the voice of my grandmother. "And you, my good and faithful servant, have brought me a champion, to serve me well as the ages pass. Well done. Well done, indeed."

I rose to my hooves, a faint and terrible hope quaking in my belly.

"Nan," I called. "Nan, is that you?"

Nan's laughter echoed around me again. "It is, my sweet boy. Though, perhaps, not as you know me."

"I don't understand." I blinked, my eyes mustering tears I hadn't known that I even had left. "Nan, where are you? I hear you, but I don't see you. Let me see you. I've... I've missed you so much, Nan."

"Dry your tears, sweet boy. You've no need for them."

"But I failed, Nan. I failed you, and Notch – all I did was get him killed! Then I went to Equestria, and that somehow made everything worse! I'm so sorry, Nan. I let you down."

"Child," Nan whispered soothingly. "You've failed nobody – least of all, myself. You have carried out your duty as expected. All has gone exactly as I had foreseen – else, you would not be standing here."

"Nan..." I sat down, hard. "What are you talking about, Nan? You knew this was going to happen?"

"From the moment you were born into this world, you were destined for great things, sweet boy. Your future, your fate, are writ upon you, as surely as the mark which graces your flank. You were fated to visit the asylum, to lose your soul, to be chosen by Frampt and borne to Equestria... all so that you could be brought here, to serve me."

From the cavern wall, a shape emerged, a long white body with a red cap at the top, and the faint outlines of a mouth and eyes on its wrinkled face. Those eyes opened, and a pair of shiny black dots regarded me with matronly warmth.

"I am the All-Nana," said my grandmother, the mushroom. "And my name is Elizabeth."

I didn't know what to think. What to feel. What to believe. This revelation upended every single idea I'd ever held about my life and the nature of existence. The mere fact that I was speaking with my Nan – or a giant, talking mushroom which claimed to be my Nan – was bizarre enough, but that she claimed to be the architect of every aspect of my life? Weaver of my past, present, and future? What could I say to that?

"Why the fuck is you a 'shroom, Nan?!" I shrieked.

"A natural direction for your line of questioning to take, sweet boy. I shall endeavor to answer it." Nan's mouth-lines smiled as she looked at the Legend. "But such discussions are best held privately. You may take your leave, my Lord."

The Legend suddenly melted into the ground, swallowed by the dirt. "CANT EVEN EAT W/O CROPS," he grunted, just before his head vanished.

I looked at Nan skeptically. "'My Lord?'"

"The title is an artifact from another era, much like himself, really. He has been The Wall, The Peasant, The Hole-y Knightpapa. Giantdad, Chariot Dude, and Skeleton Man. He has been called a hundred names, and will be called a thousand more before the fire goes dim and cold. But I know him by his first name, his true name – or as close to it as he will ever reveal. He is Lord Second, and he belongs to me. As do you, Firelink Soul."

My armor clanged and clanked as I stepped closer to my Nanshroom. "Nan, what is going on here? I didn't come to Equestria to serve you. I came because... because... uh... I can't quite remember why."

"A giant bird brought you here against your will."

"Yeah, that's the ticket." I winced – said out loud, it was kind of silly.

"But you ventured after Notch with my encouragement, did you not?" said Nan. "And when he perished, you were brought to Equestria by the design of Frampt. Little did he know, in carrying you here, he served my design in turn. I am All-Nana for a reason, Firelink – all nanas are manifestations of myself, serving to guide grandchildren to Equestria, that I might find a worthy champion. One such manifestation exists in Brittlesworth. You call her 'Nan.'"

"But why?" I Firelinked.

"Because the fire fades, and with it, the age. If I am to survive, to see the next world, I will need a guardian – a knight, in my service."

"But you have the Legend."

"Yes," Nan sighed, "but have you noticed that he isn't particularly good conversation? He only speaks in Internet memes, which is a bit one-note, as jokes go."

I had no idea what any of that meant, and could only trust in Nan's bottomless wisdom.

"So I began searching the world for a new champion, using my nana-bunshin to guide undead to Equestria, as I had many times before. And, as I have done in countless worlds before, I used the Lordseeker, and his myth, as a means to further guide them here. The asylum serves, as it always has, as a filter to weed out the unworthy. You are the first, and last, to make it this far."

"And the nananappings?" I asked. "Prince Brador seemed convinced that someone was going around killing nanas. He and the Ball-Touchers were quite put out about it."

"Ugh, the Ball-Touchers," said Nan disgustedly. She spat a wad of mushroom-juice out of the corner of her mouth-line. "Their devotion sickens me, as do the profane rituals of the Mound-Pounders. The nanas – my manifestations – were never being killed, or kidnapped. They were returning here, to me."

Nan nodded at the piles of grandmother corpses. "They wander back into my realm, deep beneath the Everfree Forest, and lay themselves down to die. Gradually, I break down their matter, and reabsorb it into myself, growing larger and more powerful as I do. I was hoping that the Ball-Touchers would pin the blame for the disappearances on the Mound-Pounders, and use it as an excuse to wipe them out once and for all, with the Way of White or the Paladins finishing whoever remained."

"That's pretty ghoulish, Nan."

"Feeding off of rotting corpses, and returning them to the soil, is my business." Nan snickered. "I am a mushroom, after all."

"I meant the political aspect of it."

"I am also one-quarter Lanneighster."

"Noted. But what about me, Nan?" I asked. "Where do I go from here?"

"Why, into my service, naturally." Nan towered over me, a fungal titan, the gills in her cap plainly visible from my lower vantage. "Swear fealty to me, my boy, and you will ride out the turning of the cycles for all time. You will become my shade, ageless, forever in the service of the All-Nana. A true constant in the ever-changing ages."

The prospect didn't sound entirely alluring. "And should I refuse?"

"No harm will come to you. The Legend will return you to the surface, where you may live out the remainder of your existence. Fulfill Frampt's design, or find some other cause to live for. Either way, though, you will eventually hollow – I fear it was your lust for Sunset Shimmer that was holding the pieces of your sanity together, and with that avenue now closed to you, it is only in my service that you may shirk your ultimate fate."

...And that made the prospect sound a hell of a lot more alluring. "What must I do?"

"There is no ritual. No song. No fanfare. Covenant with the All-Nana is a moment of little ceremony. Your eternal service to me... that will be celebration enough." Nan blinked slowly. "You need only kneel, Firelink Soul."

I knelt, and bowed my head, and from my scalp sprouted a bulbous red lump. My nose filled with the cloying scent of spores, making me cough and sneeze – but at least the smell of corpses was gone.

"Now, thou'rt too a mushroom," said the All-Nana. "We, two, the very last."





Sunset Shimmer climbed the ladder leading up to the straw-roofed Ponyville home. Her hormones screamed at her to gallop back to the Everfree Forest and find Firelink, to let him drive his coiled sword deep within her primal bonfire, and rekindle her first flame. Every step away from him, and every rung climbed, felt harder than the last, yet each came as a victory all the same.

Waiting for her at the top was a lavender unicorn more, her face obscured by a bearded stallion's mask, and bedecked with a long-brimmed hat, from which a white feather trailed. She lay with her legs curled under her body, one forelimb looped around the hilt of a sheathed greatsword.

The mare took sight of the red-faced, panting Sunset, and made a sympathetic sound. "You look like hell," she mused, her voice muffled behind the mask.

"Nice to see you too," Sunset Shimmer muttered. She flopped down beside the mare with a sigh.

The masked mare stared curiously at Sunset. "Are you in your cycle right now? By Epona's bellyboobs, I didn't even think we could still get those."

"It's not natural – some kind of magical influence. A stallion I was traveling with spiked my Estus flask somehow, but he tore off after I started coming on to him. Eventually I recovered enough of my wits to trudge back here, but my girly bits are still screaming at me to track him down and mount him."

Sunset rested her chin on her folded forelegs.

"Stallions are scum."

"You've been alive how many centuries now?" the masked mare chuckled. "And you're only now figuring that out?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Screw you, Starlight."

"Not while you're under the influence. That'd be shady." Starlight Glimmer produced a flask from somewhere on her person, its shimmering blue contents almost lost in the turquoise glow of her magic. "Here. This should clear up your little dilemma."

Sunset accepted the flask and took a swig – the taste was similar to Estus, yet altogether different – oddly anal – and left an icy sensation in her stomach and esophagus. The overwhelming, hormonal urge to breed with Firelink – or "Failurestink," as she decided to call him forevermore – faded, and she took a deep breath, now fully in control of her faculties.

"Feel better?" Starlight asked.

Sunset nodded, and looked at the masked knightess. "How did you—"

"Seen it before. It's a relic of the Men Going Their Own Way covenant, established by devotees of Pontiff Sentry in the frigid heart of the Voreal Valley. I brewed this Assen Estus as a countermeasure."

"The Men Going Their Own Way... yes, I've heard of them." Sunset returned the flask to Starlight. "I heard that covenant went extinct ages ago, though."

Starlight pulled the mask over her head, revealing a face whose left side was badly frostbitten and necrotic. She took a drink from her flask and sighed, smacking her lips.

"Yeah. Let's just say they didn't live to brag about roofie-ing Sir Lady Starlight Glimmer."

Sunset chuckled. "You're a hell of a mare, Starlight, y'know that?"

"Shut up, baby, I know it." Starlight leered at Sunset. "So, now that you're not being influenced by creepy friendzone magic... mind if I spend the next hour or two 'praising the sunset?'"

Sunset purred and leaned in close to Starlight until their lips were nearly touching.

"Thought you'd never ask."





"Another nana disappeared. So the grandson carries a cage. He ever has his cage. And nana's never coming back. So come into the cage, and become nana's shade."




> Chapter 8: In the Woods Somewhere
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We found him alone and dying amidst a host of corpses, staring vacantly across the forest. Sif caught his scent long before I saw or heard him myself. The knight was lying against a tree, pressing a hoof to a fresh wound on his side. Dried blood and filth sullied his armour, while his axe, shield, and helmet lay in a pile beside him.

The western road and all its horror were long behind us, but there was just as much carnage to be found all over the Everfree. This was the third such scene that Sif and I had run across since leaving Zecora's, but the first where we'd found any survivors.

Our approach disturbed the crows, who all panicked and flapped away at the first sight of the grey wolf padding along at my side. The dying Cleric-Knight noticed us soon after, slowly twisting his head our way and giving us a tired look. We stopped just in front of him, as he cast his eyes back to the ground.

"I always wanted to die in battle," he said, unprompted. "For the glory of the goddesses, I told myself, but it was always a lie. In truth, I wanted glory for myself, a legend to be told... Celestia, I was a fool..."

I lay beside him, and passed him a flask from my saddlebags. He took it, thanked me, and drank long and deep.

"I should've known the Four would punish me for my vanity." The knight wiped his mouth. "This is no less a fate than I deserve. After all, I wished for it, didn't I? Death by battle... I just didn't know it would take this long."

Sif caught the scent of something and wandered off, leaving us alone.

"...I'm sorry you think that," I said quietly.

He looked sideways at me, puzzled.

"That you deserve this, I mean. I don't think you do. Nobody does."

The knight's eyes drooped.

"The goddesses would not condemn me to this fate for nothing. If I have been judged and found wanting, maybe this is the price that I must pay. Why else would I linger here, if not to atone for my sins?"

There were many answers I could've given to that, but none of them would have brought him any comfort. I saw no divine purpose in his noble suffering. There was no reason for this but simple bad luck. But what good would it do to tell him so?

"...Is there any way I can help you?" I asked, knowing his answer already.

"Any way you can save me, you mean? No. I fear I'm long past that point... But if you would be so kind... grant me mercy."

I sighed and stood.

"...As you wish."

I drew Trixie's broadsword instead of Brightflame. Awkwardly, I paused and looked over him, wondering how to do it. The knight seemed to take my meaning, and leaned forward to pull off his armour. He gave a pained groan, so I stepped in to help him remove it.

Once done, I positioned my blade over his heart, but faltered and dropped it. It wasn't the idea of killing him that stopped me. It was just the bluntness of it all. It was such an abrupt end to a life. It felt wrong.

"Do you have any last requests, or anything?" I said, lamely. "Relatives I should inform? Any message to take back?"

He leaned his head back against the tree.

"Only one I ever cared for was my mother, bless her soul. She's passed now, gone to meet the goddesses. Them willing, maybe I'll see her again. That's the only thing I still want."

But you won't, I thought. Witchcraft said it doesn't work like that.

"Can you at least tell me your name, Sir Knight?"

"Bluecrest," he said with a hint of a smile. "Sir Bluecrest of Baltimare."

I readied my sword again.

"You die with honour, Sir Bluecrest. Whatever awaits you in the next life, I hope you find peace."

"Mmm." He closed his eyes. "Have at it then, boy. And thank you."

I didn't cry for him. Not like I did for Notch. But I did stay to bury him under the tree, digging a shallow grave by hooves and horn, until the former were raw and the latter ached. Though he never asked it of me, I wanted to at least spare him the crows. By the time I was done, setting day had arrived, and I had precious little time left. I had the day to find Pilgrimage and get her back to the Acres. If I failed, I would be left stumbling blind and surrounded by enemies.

Well, nothing else for it, I thought as I turned away from Sir Bluecrest's final rest. Best press on.





Chapter 8:
In the Woods Somewhere





I was exhausted by the time we reached Froggy Bottom Bog. Our path through the Everfree had been going too well for too long, and so fate had decided to balance it out with something horribly unpleasant. What I'd initially mistaken for an ordinary rock had turned out to be a monstrosity of living stone in a form somewhat resembling an alligator, and I was very nearly caught and crushed in its jaws, only escaping by sheer dumb luck. Sif and I had elected to run rather than fight the monster, creatures of living stone fortunately being rather heavy and not very fast, but the chase had still lasted longer than I would've liked.

Galloping in full plate armour is an incredibly unpleasant experience, and by the time we reached the edge of the bog, the stone monster now long behind us, I was drowning in my own sweat. Sif, on the other hoof, seemed to have energy to spare, and happily ran out into the murky swamp to splash through the shallows.

"Celestia, where do you find the strength?" I rasped, removing my helmet.

We were at the end of the treeline now. The woods and their thick canopy were giving way to reeds and rushes under an open orange sky. The damp dirt of the forest floor had become thick mud that squelched underhoof. Ahead was a lake of stagnant brown water, its surface dotted with patches of algae, frogs on their lily pads, and dragonflies hovering just close enough for them to catch. Muddy islands and rocks rose out of the swamp in places, but there was no obvious path across to the other side.

"Hrmm..."

I looked down at the rusty iron chain around my neck. It didn't seem like anything special, but Madam Zecora had said otherwise. I didn't have any reason to doubt her, did I?

I took a breath and fitted my helmet back on. "Okay... let's give it a try."

With a tentative step, I lowered a forehoof into the shallows of the bog. There was an elastic feeling beneath my hoof, like the water was a solid sheet that was sagging under my weight. I moved another hoof out, and stepped further across the water. To my surprise, the water's surface maintained its integrity, but still dipped slightly. I felt like if I jumped on it, the water would bounce me into the air.

I took another step and slipped slightly, before catching myself.

"Ohhhhkaaaaay..." I muttered. "Not very much friction, either..."

Sif swam past me, fur soaked with muddy water and a lily pad on his head. His tongue hung out, and he tried to jump out the water to get to me.

"No! Down, boy!"

It was no use. Sif toppled me over and tried to climb on me, only to slide off into the water again. In the process I discovered that the enchantment applied to my whole body, not just my hooves, because I bounced on the water's surface just as I predicted I would. This did not, however, save me from getting wet. I pulled myself up while Sif swam in circles around me.

"You see what you do?"

Sif had nothing to say for himself. I just grumbled and tried to find my balance again.

On closer inspection, the water's surface wasn't too slippery; I could move on it at a reasonable pace if I just watched my steps. I moved carefully, making sure not to drag my hooves. Since I didn't slip, I upped my pace slightly, still watching myself. Soon, I was trotting across the water as easily as if it were dry land, Sif paddling along beside me. It was a surreal experience, but it certainly wasn't a bad one. If the circumstances were less dire, I might've even been having fun.

Navigating by the sun, I followed the stagnant water southwards, hewing as close as I could to the Everfree treeline on my left. Eventually, I'd reach the southern end of the forest, and then I could walk right around the worst of the fighting, and go straight east to the castle to find Sister Pilgrimage. It was a good plan. I just had to watch out for the hydra that Madam Zecora had mentioned. If I saw it, I would... run, I supposed.

Sif climbed onto a rock and shook the swamp water out of his fur. I stopped for a moment, and tried to visualise where I was relative to Ponyville. On my right, westwards, a line of cliffs rose up in the distance, while northwards, behind me, more trees curled around to enclose the swamp. I suspected that I was directly south of the town, and that the back end of the orchards on Sweet Apple Acres might have been somewhere on the other side of those cliffs. But I wasn't entirely sure.

"Maybe I should check my map..." I mumbled.

Then something closed around my hind leg.

"Wha—"

I didn't even have time to finish the word before it dragged me under the water. The elastic surface snapped, and I sank like a stone. Water poured through my open visor and started filling my helmet. I tried to suck in a breath, but only got a nose full of swamp water. I tried to swim up, but my armour weighed me down, and the thing holding my leg kept pulling.

Moments later, my hooves hit a soft bed of mud. My lungs hurt, and my eyes were squeezed shut. I used my magic to pull my helmet off, and started loosening the rest of my armour as quickly as possible. If I didn't get it off, I was going to drown.

The thing let go of my leg, instead closing a pair of limbs around my midsection and preventing me from removing the barding of my armour. I struggled to throw it off, but the water made my movements slow and sluggish. My lungs were on fire. I turned back to the thing, pointing my horn towards it, and unleashed a blast of blind telekinetic force. I felt it reel, but it didn't let go. Instead, it grasped for my face, and cold metal covered my cheek. My eyes shot open, even as they stung from the swamp water. I screamed out the last of my breath in a stream of bubbles.

The helmet of the black knight glared back at me.

You can't be here! I killed you in Ponyville!

The edge of my vision was going dark. The black knight shoved me down. My back hit the mud, and its hooves pressed down on my neck. It wasn't enough that I was drowning. This thing wanted to strangle me, too.

Somebody, anybody, help me! I prayed.

Just as I was reaching my limit, something very big and very fast slammed into the both of us, and we breached the water's surface.

My body spun in the air. I hit the surface of the swamp, bounced off, rolled, hit the water again, and lost my loosened barding. I didn't see where it went, but it made a splash behind me. Seconds later, I slammed into a rock, and pain shot through my side as I cracked a rib. I let out a scream. I don't know if the bone pierced anything vital, but it was definitely stabbing into something.

A wolf's howl sounded somewhere behind me. I turned over on my rock, lying back as I stared up at the gargantuan beast rising out of the swamp. Its half-submerged body was a singular great mass of brown and yellow scales, but its four heads sat atop long, thick necks that writhed and twisted in the air as water dripped off of them. Two of the heads glared down at me with burning emerald eyes, while the other two trapped the black knight between their mouths. I didn't see any teeth, but they gnashed and chewed at it, crushing its armour like a tin can.

I snorted out swamp water and tried to stand.

"Erggghhhhh..." I groaned, holding a hoof to my broken rib. "Alrighty then... let's get this over with."

The two heads rushed towards me. I rolled out of the way and onto the surface of the swamp, another lance of pain shooting through me. I still had my rusty iron chain on, so the surface kept its integrity and allowed me to run across it.

"Come on, come on..."

I didn't have a plan for this. My armour was beneath the swamp, and I had no earthly clue where my weapons had gone. All I had were my legs and my horn. But I didn't need anything more than that to run.

My eyes darted to the treeline. I didn't know if the Everfree could protect me, but I didn't exactly have many options. I had to hope that Sif could make it to safety, too. I weaved around rocks and tripped over lily pads, desperately racing towards the swamp's edge. The hydra's heads crashed into the water behind me, sending a wave rippling across the surface that I didn't see coming until it caught up with me. I was thrown into the air and landed on my back.

I grunted as I fell, and screamed out as the hydra's mouth closed around me. I thought that it would just crush me with its jaw, like the knight, but instead it tossed me skyward.

"Waaahhhhhhhhh!"

I looked below, to the hydra's waiting mouth. Instinctively, I tried to grab ahold of my own body with telekinesis in an attempt to slow the fall. I immediately broke my hold when it felt like I was encased in concrete. Self-levitation always just felt wrong like that.

As I flew into its mouth, I reached out a hoof and grabbed the edge of its lip, bringing me to a sudden stop. I dangled on the edge, the hydra's gullet below me.

Its tongue reached up and tried to push me loose, but only jostled me about. One of the hydra's other heads came into view, glaring at me with hateful intensity. It opened its mouth slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the mangled black knight still trapped inside, along with...

Trixie's sword!

I grinned, gripping the broadsword with my magic. It was lodged in the other head's gums, but I tore it loose. A geyser of steaming green slosh burst forth from where it had been stuck. The other head let loose an infernal screech, and Trixie's sword flew free.

"Yes!" I brought the sword over, pointing it back towards the head currently devouring me. "Not so tough now, are you?"

I didn't have a good view for obvious reasons, but I aimed for where I thought its eyes would be, and stabbed. The head I was in thrashed and flailed, flinging me from its mouth and down into the swamp again. There was an audible crack as I broke a leg in the fall, and pain shot through me again. I cried out, but stubbornly kept ahold of my blade.

"Gah! Okay! You still got this, Firelink!"

A shadow loomed over me. I twisted about to face the oncoming hydra. The first head I'd attacked, bleeding from the mouth, spat a glob of green blood at me, and it splashed all over my front.

I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

The blood was like liquid fire. Searing pain flared everywhere it touched me. In my panic, I tried to brush it off with my hooves, but then they were burning as well. I lay down on the swamp and rolled over the water's surface, trying to get rid of it, but the pain wouldn't go away. It was like the blood was eating through me.

Four hydra heads rushed in as I writhed in agony. They slammed into me all at once, crushing me against their foreheads. More of my bones cracked, and my breath was driven out of me, but that was barely even a blip on the radar compared to what the hydra's blood felt like. The heads drew away, and I had a chance to look down at my chest and forehooves, where it had splashed me. My skin was melting and sloughing off my bones as a thick, fleshy paste.

I couldn't articulate any coherent thoughts. It was like the changeling venom all over again, but somehow a thousand times worse. Being stabbed through the gut by Patches seemed like a fond memory at this point.

A hydra's mouth closed around a foreleg, and lifted me a short ways off the ground. I dangled helplessly in the air. Liquidised skin dribbled down my side, spreading the burning sensation further. Driven by a sudden, desperate need to cut my own legs off, I tried to reach for the sword that I no longer had. I'd dropped it again after the blood splashed me, so I didn't know where exactly it was, but I knew the general vicinity. I felt around in the water with my magical field, searching frantically. I needed to find it; the burning was creeping down from my foreleg all the way to my flank, and I needed to make it stop.

I found it. Blindly, madly, I pulled from the swamp and floated it up as the head lifted me higher. Another head loomed below, ready to eat me, but I didn't care at anymore. Perhaps I should've, because the sword burst through its lower jaw to reach me, causing another spurt of hydra's blood to sail through the air and wash over my legs, belly, and sensitive parts.

My screams renewed. My sword dropped again, but I caught it before it hit the ground. The head flailed about, and the hydra kept making that awful screeching noise. The head grabbing me tightened its grip, snapping the bone of my foreleg and causing me to drop and land on the hydra's back. All my senses by this point were being drowned out by the burning.

"Aghhhhhh! Celestia, what is this?!"

I tried to bring my sword over to me. My magic was shaky and weak, but it was coming. The other two heads arrived first, leaning in so close to me that I could smell their breath. One had the broken black knight stuck in its jaw still, while the other was yet undamaged.

I tried to focus, but my mind was flooded with jumbled thoughts and emotions. Most of all, there was fury. Fury at the idea that this thing was going to win by bleeding on me. Unbidden, memories of my fight with the Asylum demon surfaced. I had been doing so well against it, but then it had just flopped over and crushed me like an ant, and the fight had been over. I'd never even had a second chance against it, for redemption or revenge. It had all been so unfair.

I wouldn't have a second chance this time, either. If the hydra's blood could reduce me to this state, then there was no way I was coming back from being digested. I had to kill this thing before it killed me, no matter what.

I brought around Trixie's broadsword, and slashed sideways at the uninjured head, cutting across its nose and one eye. I ducked my head as green blood showered over my back. By now, I was sitting in a puddle of my own flesh, but my nerves were still intact enough to feel like they were on fire. The only places on my body that weren't in total agony were bare bone.

Hydra blood trickled over my face. I howled as it pooled in my eye sockets and blinded me. It dripped around my muzzle and into my mouth. My tongue tasted vile poison for a second before it too melted away, and my entire lower jaw fell off. I couldn't even scream anymore, but I still had my horn, and I could still lift my sword.

Why do I do this to myself?

I drove the sword down, digging it into the hydra's flesh just above me, and pulled the sword towards myself. The act opened a wound in the hydra's body, big enough for a pony to fit through, and I buried the sword further inside. Deeper and deeper I thrust it, feeling through my magical field as the blade ripped through the beast's soft innards. I imagined that it was screeching still, but if so, I couldn't hear it; my ears were part of the soup now pouring down my neck.

The body beneath me shifted. More hydra's blood trickled down from the wound and washed over me, finally melting through the soft enamel of my horn. I lost my sword just as I stabbed into something big that I could only hope was a major organ. Then the hydra seemed to completely lose balance, as it toppled over into the swamp, taking me with it.

I didn't so much slide off of its body as I flowed. I was blind and deaf, but I still felt the motions as I dripped down its side and tumbled off onto a rock. A wave crashed over me shortly after, possibly from the hydra hitting the water, but it barely registered through the haze of total agony. I wasn't even immediately aware that I'd fallen at all.

For a while, I simply lay there on the rock. I don't know how long it was before I regained enough clarity of thought to piece together that I had moved, and I had no idea if the beast was still alive or not. I waited for another mouth to close around my body, for more blood to splash over me, for the hydra to try crushing me with its heads, but nothing came. If I'd still had an intact mouth, I might've breathed a sigh of relief. Or, more realistically, I might've still been screaming. Not to put too fine a point on it, but my entire world was pain, and the mere fact that I was still alive and aware was proof that the gods had it out for me personally.

Still, I didn't relent. Though the pain clouded my every thought and made it difficult to concentrate on anything else, I focused all my effort into moving my legs. Three of them didn't respond at all, too badly damaged for me to even feel them. One foreleg twitched slightly, but that was all I could manage. Without a horn, I had no access to my magic, either. Only my neck had enough working muscle to allow me any freedom of movement.

With a grim determination, I leaned as far forward as I could, and hooked the teeth of my upper jaw around a jutting piece of rock. By the strength of my neck alone, I dragged my limp and useless body along, managing only an inch before I had to let go for fear of breaking my teeth. Then I tried again, dragging myself another inch. My exposed bones scraped against the stone, and my flesh still dripped off me. I moved another inch, and then rested again.

For what felt like hours, this continued. An inch at a time, I crawled across the rock, literally dragging myself by my teeth, trying as best I could to block out everything I was feeling. Multiple times, my concentration lapsed, simply because I couldn't ignore it any longer. I kept stopping, overcome by my urge to writhe and scream, which manifested only as a few limp spasms that I could barely feel. Each time, I pulled myself back from my madness and returned to the task at hoof, biting the rock again to continue my journey forward.

Need to reach it... I reminded myself. Need to get there...

Finally, after an eternity of struggling, I reached the edge of the rock, my head now dangling over the water. With one last breath of relief, I dunked it below the swamp, and stayed there until I drowned myself.





I rarely considered the sensation of being dead. Time never seemed to pass at all between my lives. One minute I would be dying, and the next I would wake up in a newly restored body. But in truth, there was always more to it than that. Death is akin to a dreamless sleep. I never had any sort of awareness in death, but... there was something in there. Death isn't just a cessation of existence. It's a gentle, quiet darkness, always beckoning me to stay a little longer.

And whenever I awoke from it, I always felt... cold.

My eyes opened to darkness, and I let out a little gasp. Everything still hurt, with a raw burning pain that put the aftermath of the changeling venom to shame. Yet it was but a gentle summer breeze compared to what I'd just gone through; I had a feeling that any other death I could experience would pale in comparison to that.

I leaned back and waited for it to pass. There was a chill, worse than usual this time, so I wrapped my forehooves around myself and shivered. It took me a second to realise that I was no longer in the swamp. Or at least, I didn't think I was. My surroundings were dry, and my back rested against a rocky wall. With a wince, I lit up my horn, revealing the inside of some kind of cave. Small animal bones littered the floor, scattered amidst a layer of dust, or possibly ash. The whole place smelled of smoke, as if a fire had been burning in here recently.

"...Huh..."

The pain turned to numbness. I pulled myself up, leaning against the cave wall. To my right was a dead end, while from my left, the cold drifted in. I wasn't sure where I was, but it definitely wasn't where I'd died. Someone or something had dragged me here. Going by the recent fire, probably something sapient. A monster? Something that wanted to eat me? Or had I been rescued?

"...Sif?" I called out to the barely illuminated darkness. "Are you there, boy?"

I hoped, somehow, that it was my faithful wolf who had brought me here, but I didn't know. I heard no howl in response, no padding of paws on stone. There was only empty silence, and the sound of distant wind. I realised with a sinking dread that I'd completely lost track of him in the chaos of my battle with the hydra. I had no idea if he'd even survived. I hoped he'd just run off to safety, but unless he came back, I would probably never know.

"Oh, Sif... Where are you, boy?"

It took me a moment to remember how to walk, but I started moving, following the wind towards what I hoped was the exit. There was no light when I reached the end. The mouth of the cave revealed only the moon hanging against a field of stars, just barely illuminating the surrounding wetlands. The light of my horn helped to hold back the darkness, but also attracted fluttering moths. Nothing I saw looked familiar.

"Ah, damn it..." I muttered.

I had no wolf, no armour, no weapons, and no bags. Feeling around my neck, even my iron chain was missing. I was as naked as I could possibly be. And on top of all of that, I was lost in the Everfree Forest on a dark day.

Okay, okay... There must be some way out of this...

I needed to reorient myself first. I still seemed to be in the vicinity of Froggy Bottom Bog, but I didn't know which way anything was. Without a compass, a map, or even the sun to work from, I was walking blind. So... I needed to find somewhere familiar. If I could at least get back to where I'd fought the hydra, I could work out the cardinal directions from memory. And how hard could it be to find something that big?

Since my regular hornlight was too dim to navigate by, I conjured a small fireball to light my way, holding it at the tip of my horn. My pyromancy burned brightly, and the swamp revealed itself. I was standing atop a steep incline that led down to the water, the dirt beneath my hooves becoming mud further down. I descended to the banks of the swamp, and turned right at the bottom of the incline. I didn't know if I was going the right way, but I had to find out somehow.

As luck would have it, I chose well. A short walk later, I came across the hydra's corpse. The monster's necks sprawled across the swamp, some resting on the rocks while others sank into the depths. Chunks were missing from its flesh where scavengers had picked at it, the wounds caked with dark green, conjuring disturbing thoughts about what could have possibly eaten such a creature. Surrounding the corpse, dead fish floated amongst patches of green foam, which bubbled lazily atop the brown water.

"...Yeesh."

I kept walking along the bank, but my eyes remained on the corpse. For a moment, I forgot about trying to work out my position, and instead just marvelled at the sight. It was ugly to look at, but at the same time, it was amazing. The hydra easily dwarfed even the timberwolf king, taking its title for biggest monster I'd ever seen. I doubted even dragons grew so big. And I had killed it. It had broken my bones and melted my flesh, yet it was dead, and I was still here.

Captivated by the sight of the beast, I almost tripped over the big hunk of metal in my path. I stopped, and for a second, chanced to hope that it was a piece of my armour. 

Instead, it was the mangled remnants of the black knight that lay at my hooves.

Incredibly, the thing was still alive. Its helmet angled towards me, and the mass of metal that had once been its armour shook slightly. The knight didn't seem like it could move. Maybe its armour was too badly crushed, or maybe the knight itself was too injured. My money was on both. Despite its impairment, it still roared at me, just like back in Ponyville. Now that I thought about it, the black knight's roar shared the same echoey quality as Vamos's voice.

I reached out with my magic and yanked its helmet off, exposing a bare skull underneath. It thrashed about and snapped at the air, as if trying to bite me.

"...You can't be the same hollow I killed in Ponyville," I said quietly. "So I'm guessing there's more than one of you. At least two, very likely more. You probably came from the same knight order... but... why are you both skeletons? Did you die together, the same way? Then how did you end up so far apart? Your armour wasn't removed before you were burned, so... you weren't cremated. I want to say... death by dragon? Were you dragonslayers?"

The black knight did not answer. It just snapped at the air and growled at me. Something told me that I wouldn't ever know its secrets.

"Ah well..." I sighed.

I put a hoof on the mass of twisted metal, and gently shoved it back into the swamp. The black knight sank under the murky water, and disappeared from my sight, hopefully forever. I gave it a little salute.

"Thank you for your service," I said dryly.

Once it was gone, I turned my gaze back to the dead hydra and the surrounding area. Based on what I could see and what I recognised, I was facing west. Which meant that the cave was south of the hydra, and that I had gone north to find it again. So now I knew. I could keep going this way to get back to Sweet Apple Acres, or I could turn around and head back towards the cave to continue my journey.

Truthfully, I wanted to do the latter. I'd lost a day at Madam Zecora's, and now another day being dead again, so getting to Pilgrimage was starting to feel like a more urgent task. But carrying on without any equipment seemed like a bad idea, even for me. With my armour's protection, I'd survived the hollows of Ponyville, the timberwolves, a duel with a Chaos Paladin, and even Darkwraiths. Without it, I'd been stabbed, poisoned, decapitated, crushed, and now melted.

There was no chance in hell I'd win this fight without armour. I needed to go back to Anvil and get a fresh set, or at least scavenge something from one of the many desolate battlefields I'd come across in the Everfree.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Brightflame, the red eye orb, Zecora's charm, Sunset's soapstone, they were all gone now. I didn't think that I was that sentimental about them, but it still hurt to lose them all. And Sif. I was still troubled by the question of where he'd gone.

As if in answer, something furry and covered in filth slammed into me, and I was on my back in the mud. I screamed and held my hooves up over my face, while the wolf tried to lick me and nuzzle my neck. He jumped back and ran in circles around me. I climbed to my hooves, only for him to jump up at me again. This time, I caught him. His fur was encrusted with dried dirt and leaves, and he smelled awful, but I nevertheless grinned as he howled and jumped around me.

"Hello, boy!" I said, grabbing Sif on one of his passes and rubbing his side. "Did you bring me to the cave? Did you drag me out of the swamp?"

Sif yipped and rolled onto his back in the mud, curling his paws up while I continued stroking him.

"Good boy. Good, good boy."

He rolled upright suddenly, and ran in circles around me some more, before quickly lying back down and wagging his tail. I was so happy to see him again, I didn't notice that we weren't alone.

My smile froze on my face as the golden form of Sir Loving Heart fluttered into view from the corner of my eye. He almost seemed to seep from the shadows themselves. Already my neck hairs were raising and my heart was beating faster. Sif must've sensed my apprehension, because he went still and silent.

I stood up slowly, taking a cautious stance and getting ready to run if need be, before turning to face him.

"...Sir Loving Heart," I said carefully. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Nobody ever does." He made some horrible rasping chuckle, and I reflexively stepped back. "I've been waiting for you to revive for over a day now. I confess, I was not expecting you to awaken with all your faculties."

I said nothing. Sif bared his teeth and let out a low growl.

"Your wolf doesn't like me, but he is loyal. When you were attacked, he ran to find help, and led me here to you. Alas, I arrived too late to save your life, but I kept vigil over your corpse. I am glad to see you are still yourself."

I blinked, unsure of how to react to that. It wasn't as if Sir Loving Heart had never helped me before, so it wasn't entirely out of character for him. But last time, it had been repayment of a debt. This time, I honestly couldn't fathom his motive.

"Um... Thank you, Sir Loving Heart."

There was an uncomfortable silence, until Sir Loving Heart broke it with a cough.

"Come," he muttered, turning southward. "I have your things back at the cave."

He started off before I could respond, fluttering above the ground to avoid walking through the mud. I trudged after him, shadowed by Sif. My hooves and Sif's paws squelched with every step, but Sir Loving Heart's wingbeats were eerily silent, little more than a whisper in the air.

"You recovered my gear?" I asked, wearing a puzzled expression.

"Of course. I had little else to do while waiting for you to heal. Your wolf was again a great help with that."

I lapsed back into silence, but Sir Loving Heart had more to say.

"Was it you who slayed the hydra?"

"...Yes," I said, not quite believing it myself. "But not without difficulty."

"I do not doubt," said Sir Loving Heart. "You were in quite the sorry state when I found you. Most of your body had melted away, and what remained was still deteriorating. I had to burn the afflicted flesh."

I again had nothing to say.

"However did you manage to slay the beast? It must have been quite the feat."

"I just sort of... stabbed it a bunch of times..." I mumbled.

"...Hmph. Well, it was a respectable kill, in any case. Slaying a hydra is a brutal endeavour, one which only the most foolhardy warriors attempt. Even undead are hesitant. Did you know that the Free Cities use hydra's blood for undead executions?"

"Uh... no, I didn't."

"I saw one once. An undead execution. It was quite gruesome. The blood liquefied even the undead's bones. Thankfully, they had already been killed by the sword first... To be alive, and feel its sting firsthoof, is said to be an agony beyond mortal comprehension."

I coughed awkwardly. "Yeah... it wasn't fun."

We came to the cave shortly. Sif excitedly ran in ahead of us, while Sir Loving Heart stopped at the entrance to land on the ground at last. He removed his helmet, letting his long, stringy mane tumble out, and gave me the same dull, contemptuous expression he always bore.

"I saved what I could, but I'm afraid much of it is still damp," he said gesturing towards the cave entrance with a wing.

If he thought I was going into a dark cave ahead of him, he had another thing coming.

"I'm sure it's fine," I replied, resolutely not moving. "At least I won't be naked out here."

Sir Loving Heart evidently took my meaning, dropping his wing and stepping towards the cave. He stopped when Sif came bounding out, clutching something in his mouth. My wolf ran over to me to drop a broken sword at my hooves, tail wagging furiously. 

I slowly floated it up to inspect it. It was Trixie's broadsword, or at least what remained of it. Most of the blade was missing, and some of the hilt too. It didn't look like the pieces had been snapped off, either. The edges were marked by small curves and patches, and off colouring where the upper layer of the metal had been eaten away by the hydra's blood. I almost wasn't surprised after what it had done to me.

"Huh... okay." I tossed the ruined sword aside. "Well... thanks for trying, boy."

Sif made a whining noise and went to pick it back up. He held the broken sword in his mouth and padded back over, sitting in front of me with the hilt clenched in his jaw.

"Right..." I said, taking it off him again. "Okay, boy. Thank you."

He excitedly ran back into the cave. When Sir Loving Heart also went in ahead, I threw the broken sword back into the bushes and followed them, my fireball still lighting the way. The cave wasn't very deep, but it was winding, and full of small alcoves. It was no surprise that I'd missed many of them on my way out. Sure enough, in an alcove near the back of the cave, Sir Loving Heart had left all my armour in a heap. My eyes widened as I beheld it, while Sif struggled to drag Brightflame out of the pile.

Somehow, my full suit was there, damp, but otherwise no worse for wear. Brightflame remained in its scabbard, and even still burned when I removed it, releasing a cloud of steam. I found Trixie's kite shield and my saddlebags underneath the pile, too.

"The bags were unopened when I found them, so I believe nothing escaped," said Sir Loving Heart, standing behind me. "But your inkpot cracked, and most of the parchment inside was ruined."

I hurriedly checked through the bags. The inkpot and the map were absent, as was most of the blank parchment, but a few crinkled sheets still remained. Miraculously, Witchcraft's spell scroll had survived, which made me breathe a sigh of relief; everything else was an acceptable loss, but the scroll would be difficult to replace. I resolved to sit down and read it as soon as possible, in case I ever lost it again.

Besides the papers, everything was still present. The red eye orb, soapstone, binoculars, bag of gold, and quill were all accounted for. All I was missing was the rusty chain. Or at least, that's what I thought, until I fished that out of the bags as well. Hydra's blood had melted through part of it and broken the chain, so I had no idea whether it still worked, but it was definitely the same one Madam Zecora had given me.

I gave Sir Loving Heart an incredulous look. He shrugged as he leaned back against the cave wall.

"Floating metal is hard to miss," he said simply.

I returned my attention to the armour pile, and stared down at the rusty iron chain. If he was telling the truth, then it still functioned, even if I couldn't wear it anymore. I decided to wrap it around my hoof and cover it with my leggings from now on.

"I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, Sir L—"

Metal hooves gripped my shoulder and shoved my head forward. I instinctively rolled onto my back and blasted Sir Loving Heart away with a wave of telekinetic force. Good to see I still had enough magic left to fight. He staggered and hit the cave wall, grunting from the impact. Sif snarled and circled around to his side, while I unsheathed Brightflame and pointed it at him.

"Stay back!" I shouted, shadows flickering off the cave walls as I waved my sword. "I'm warning you, sir! Not a step closer!"

Blood dripped from Sir Loving Heart's nose, but his dull expression remained completely unchanged. He casually wiped the blood away with an armoured hoof and drew himself up.

"I apologise," he whispered, his breathy voice making my skin crawl. "I was merely attempting to see the mark on your neck."

I paused, and thrust Brightflame a little closer. Sir Loving Heart stiffened slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"I thought I saw a mark on the back of your neck. A small black spiral shape."

"...It's a birthmark," I said. "It's nothing."

In truth, I was surprised he'd even seen it; normally, it was obscured by my mane.

"My wife had one just like it," said Sir Loving Heart, eyes flicking to the floor. "In the same place, too. Ran in her family."

I lowered Brightflame.

"Really? The Apples all have this mark?"

He shook his head. "Only Apple Bloom's descendants, which right now, is just Honest Heart. Though, curiously, the Doctor has it as well, despite a lack of any relation to the Apples."

"...That is curious."

"You and he are both from the Griffish Isles, are you not?" Sir Loving Heart asked. "Do the two of you bear any common relation?"

"None that I know, but it's possible." 

I sheathed Brightflame, though my fireball still lit the cave. Sif calmed down slightly, but kept between us and the exit.

"There's a noble family in New Griffonstone who have these birthmarks. House Songbird. I had a great grandfather who was a bastard of their line, so that's where I get it from. The Doctor could be related to that house as well, but... I don't see how anypony from the Apple family could be..."

Either way, this was an interesting coincidence, if Sir Loving Heart was telling the truth. I didn't believe in fate or destiny, but this still felt significant somehow. Myself, the Doctor, and Honest Heart... what linked us? Was there a reason we all met, or was it really just a coincidence? But how could it be? What were the odds that I'd travel halfway across the world and just happen to bump into two distant, unknown relatives, who didn't even have a clear relation to each other? How could that possibly be random?

While I pondered, Sir Loving Heart took a single step in my direction. Immediately I backed away and Sif growled at him, making the knight stop in his tracks. He tilted his head slightly.

"...You really do not trust me, do you?"

"Can you seriously blame me? You're a murder suspect lurking in the woods, who lured me into a dark cave and tried to grab me from behind."

Sir Loving Heart remained placid. "If I made a poor impression, I apologise for it."

I almost laughed. "Why did you rescue me, Sir Loving Heart? Why did you really help me?"

"I am a knight," he answered. "I swore a vow to protect others."

I glared at him, expecting him to give a real answer, but he just sighed and looked away.

I wouldn't have questioned a random act of heroism from any other knight in the world, but Sir Loving Heart was just so overtly sinister and creepy, it almost didn't make sense coming from him.

"Hmm, I see," he muttered. "You believe I am guilty."

"...Maybe" I said, uncertain. "I'm trying to reserve judgement, but you're not making it easy. It's just..."

Sir Loving Heart gave me an expectant look.

"...It's just... Sir Loving Heart, maybe you don't know this, but you're... unsettling. Everything about you just puts me on edge. I'm not saying it's your fault, but..."

He remained still for a moment, unblinking, unchanging. I wondered for a moment if I'd offended him. But if I had, how would I even tell?

"Yes, I see," he eventually said. "That is regrettable. But not an uncommon reaction. Honest Heart has much the same opinion of me. So did my wife, in the beginning... She always told me I should smile more, but I never mastered the art."

He tried to smile at me, just like he had when I'd first met him. Again, it was an unnatural look, just bared yellow teeth with an empty, joyless stare. I couldn't help but wince.

Sir Loving Heart dropped it and cleared his throat.

"Well... if I make you uncomfortable, perhaps I should depart. Unless you would like my assistance navigating back to the Acres?"

I shook my head. "I'm not going back. I have a purpose in the woods."

"Hmph. Off to rescue a nubile young cleric, are you?"

My eyes widened.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. Madam Zecora and her new student told me all about your quest. If you mean to continue, I would still lend you my blades, if that is your wish."

"...You know Madam Zecora?" I asked.

"Where else do you think your wolf found me?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. This should've been an easy decision, but Sir Loving Heart frightened me deeply, and had since the moment we met. Every time I saw him, it inspired only a sinking dread, even when he came to help. But that was just the thing: he kept coming to help me. His demeanour, appearance, and voice were all creepy and menacing, but by his actions... I really had nothing to hold against him. As much as it pained me to admit it, there was nothing rational about my fears.

And besides all that, I was in the Everfree Forest on a dark day; I needed all the help I could get.

"...Fine," I said. "I suppose it'll be easier going with the two of us."

"My service is yours, for the time being. But we should move quickly. The deer would not dare tread near the castle ruins, but... other things lurk in these woods. Fortunate that you have me then. I have quite some experience as a hunter of beasts. Eheheheh..."

There was nothing quite like one of Sir Loving Heart's dry, raspy laughs to remind me that the gods hate us all and that everything will eventually die.





Froggy Bottom Bog wasn't as big as I'd thought, so it didn't take us long to get out of the swamp. The water gave way to mud, the mud became dirt, and I was soon noticing a lot more trees all around us, prompting me to lower the intensity of my fireball for fear of starting another inferno. Despite the darkness, it felt good to be out of the swamp and back into the forest itself. It felt safer. For as bad as all the desolate battlefields and timberwolves were, none of them had ever melted me alive.

The wildlife also started changing as we made the transition. In the swamp, I'd noticed insects everywhere, moths and dragonflies and such. In the woods, there were spiders. Weird little blue spiders with star shapes on their backs, which wove their webs across our paths so that we had to push through them to move on. They seemed harmless, but I was still wary of them. My experiences with Everfree fauna so far had not been positive.

Still, I was quite disturbed when Sir Loving Heart at one point ate one of the spiders. The thing had landed on his nose, so he shot out his tongue and pulled it into his mouth like a frog, swallowing it live. I stared incredulously at him, but he offered neither comment nor explanation, simply continuing as if nothing had happened. After my experiences with the Chaos Paladins, I felt I should be more jaded to such bizarre behaviour, but Sir Loving Heart was uniquely strange.

Further along, we started encountering mushrooms. Walking mushrooms, with hands, and faces. They were just a head shorter than a pony, and padded around on two stubby little legs, squinting at the three of us through beady black eyes. They kept their distance, and waddled away as we approached, but Sif didn't like them. He growled at any he saw, the hair on his back pricking up. I wasn't sure if it was just predator behaviour, or if he was trying to warn me about something. Either way, I found them very creepy.

"It's okay, boy," I said, keeping my magical grip around Brightflame's hilt. "They won't come any closer."

"Hrmm, you don't know that," Sir Loving Heart grumbled. "They may simply be biding their time, waiting for their parents."

"Parents?" I echoed.

"I've heard tell from other crusaders of the deer sending mushroom creatures into battle, but they always described them as great hulking brutes, not small shy things like these. I would wager that these ones are mere children, and that mother and father are out on the front lines somewhere. If they return, the little ones might find some courage, and that could be a problem. We may find ourselves mobbed."

"So what would you suggest?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the mushroom creatures. "Killing them preemptively because they might be dangerous? Must say, not an attitude that benefits you. And if mommy and daddy could return at any moment, I'd rather not give them a reason to be angry at us."

"Hmph. Point taken."

He said no more on the subject as we trudged deeper into the woods, shadowed by a small entourage of curious mushroom creatures the entire way. I called out to them a few times, gauging to see if they were intelligent and willing to communicate, but the results were inconclusive. None of them responded to me, and a few ran to hide behind trees whenever I looked their way. I quickly gave up on communication attempts, putting them out of my mind once it became clear that they were neither friends nor threats.

Still, the pitter-patter of their stumpy feet weren't the only sounds in the dark forest. Every now and then I'd hear spiders skittering by, or owls hooting somewhere above us. But it wasn't until the howls rang out in the distance that I started feeling a tingle of dread. I went to reach for Brightflame, but stopped before I drew it.

"...Damn," I muttered.

I came to a halt, and Sir Loving Heart fell into line beside me.

"What is it?" he asked. "The wolves?"

"Brightflame," I said with a sigh. "It causes forest fires, and I lost my only other weapon."

"A forest fire in this region would not be the worst thing," said Sir Loving Heart. "We would not endanger any crusaders here, as the deer would undoubtedly move to extinguish it quickly, and their distraction would be to our benefit. It would serve to drive away monsters, as well."

"And what about the other animals?" I asked, pointedly. "The rabbits? The birds? Just because they can't control their instincts and don't speak our language, we should let them all burn to serve as a distraction? No. A life is a life, no matter how small. I will not kill so callously."

Sir Loving Heart grunted. "I see. As a matter of practicality, I would argue that we should consider our own lives before those of others, and do whatever is necessary to preserve them. But, from a moral stance, I respect your decision. If you wish, I could lend you one of my shotels?"

"Please."

He removed one of the wicked curved blades from his belt and passed it to me. I floated it up and gave it a swing. It didn't have the same satisfying swish that my sword did, but beggars can't be choosers, so I thanked him and hung it next to my shield.

"You don't need them both to use them effectively, do you?" I asked as the thought occurred to me.

"I am more comfortable with two," Sir Loving Heart admitted. "It is the style we Embraced Knights are trained in. But no, I do not require both. My wing-blades are more than sufficient."

We resumed our steady progression, Sif running ahead of us to scout the path and warn off the mushroom creatures. As we walked, I voiced another question on my mind.

"What are the Embraced Knights of Cadance, exactly? Anvil said your order are changeling-hunters."

"We are indeed that." Sir Loving Heart chuckled darkly in that creepy way he did, and I found myself struggling to imagine what his normally expressionless face must've looked like when making such a noise. "But only when we need to be."

"...When you need to be?"

"Such as when the feral population in an area needs culling, or a rogue changeling forsakes the Fire to feed on his neighbours. My order are a countermeasure to legitimate changeling threats only. We do not exist to persecute the innocent."

"So... no association with New Griffonstone's Holy Inquisition then?"

"None," Sir Loving Heart said, much more fiercely than I expected. "I am a servant of Cadance. My purpose is to defend love. Ferals and rogues must be hunted, for they profane love by stealing it from others. Yet a changeling who does not succumb to such base urges understands the sanctity of love better than any other. Love is the lifeblood of a changeling, and the persecution of their kind is not something than any true follower of the Goddess of Love should abide."

I blinked, taken aback by Sir Loving Heart's sudden display of principle. He truly sounded angry about the mistreatment of the changelings, a feeling that I shared and thus fully understood. But, again, I didn't know how to take it from him. It further suggested that I'd initially misjudged the golden knight, but at the same time, I couldn't help noting that a pony so outraged by bigotry and intolerance probably wouldn't have gotten along well with his fellow crusaders.

Might have even been driven to murder, a little voice in my head whispered.

I considered that for a second, but only for a second, because I was interrupted in the middle of my thought by a timberwolf barreling out of the underbrush and slamming into me.

I cried out as I was sent sprawling, and grappled with my attacker as it jumped on top of me. Sir Loving Heart's wings flared as more timberwolves came bounding out of the woods. Sif rushed in, growling at the wooden wolves, all of which, I noticed with no small amount of concern, were at least slightly bigger than him. He closed his mouth around the throat of one timberwolf, while Sir Loving Heart eagerly jumped into the fray, slashing furiously at a group of others. The whole scene quickly devolved into total chaos.

I threw off the timberwolf pinning me, and drew my shield and shotel as I rolled aside and onto my hooves. It recovered and lunged at me, but I bashed its head with the kite shield and stuck the shotel in its neck.

Remembering the technique Anvil described, I buried it deep, and then tore it loose with one savage motion. Were it a living wolf, the result would've been quite bloody. As it was, all I tore loose was a layer of bark around its face. The timberwolf howled in pain, treesap dripping from under its jaw. I thought I'd really hurt it for a moment, but to my dismay, the bark I'd removed floated off the ground in a swathe of emerald green, and reattached itself to the timberwolf's face.

As I panicked and tried to mutilate the beast again, I was distracted by the distressed cries of my companions. Sir Loving Heart was being overwhelmed, breathing heavily as they came at him from all sides. He was having the same problem I was with his weapons, unable to damage the timberwolves faster than they could repair the damage. But at least the two of us were encased in armour. Sif, a non-magical wolf without instant healing, had no protection whatsoever as a gang of three wolves pounced on him. One bit his hind leg, and another went for his throat just like he'd done to the other. He yelped when they sank their teeth into him, and blood ran down his coat.

I kicked aside the wolf I was dealing with, and used telekinesis to smash another against a tree as it went for me. As soon as I was disengaged from my fight, I gripped all three wolves on Sif with my magic, and forced them off of him. They were very confused for a second, and then started snarling in my direction while the two I'd pushed aside piled back on me. I was shoved back to the ground, but luckily, the wolves seemed either not strong enough or not heavy enough to damage my armour significantly, at least not with only two of them. So I paid them no heed, instead focusing on holding back the other three while Sif limped away.

None of you creatures can harm me, I thought with a grin as they bit at my joints and neck, trying in vain to find something exposed.

An unexpected scream from Sir Loving Heart told me that I might've spoke too soon. I twisted to look his way, and gasped at the timberwolf that had closed its jaw around the back of one of his wings. Though his wing was as well-armoured as the rest of him, and sharp enough to become embedded in the timberwolf's mouth, that hadn't stopped the beast from twisting it backwards. Sir Loving Heart thrashed and tried to pull it loose, but the timberwolf kept on him. A sickening crack rang through the forest, followed by another guttural scream from Sir Loving Heart. He dropped to his knees, and the wolves biting his other limbs began dragging him away.

"No!" I shouted. "No, you monsters! Get back here!"

Another timberwolf climbed onto my back, and now I was starting to get seriously worried about the possibility of being crushed. I wasn't strong enough to push them all off, not even with magic, unless I let go of the ones that I was already restraining, which would then attack me as well. My magic wasn't strong enough to hold back the entire pack with telekinesis alone. In fact, three at once seemed to be my limit. Not bad for a unicorn, but not good enough at the moment. Sir Loving Heart was already disappearing into the forest, the glint of his golden armour shrinking into the darkness as the timberwolves dragged him further and further away.

I weighed my options. I didn't want to risk a forest fire with Brightflame or my pyromancies, but it wasn't my own life on the line here. My companions were more vulnerable than I was, and if I didn't act fast, their lives could be lost. Then I remembered the fireball floating above me, the one I'd been using to light our way. If I'd still had the freedom of movement for it, I would've smacked my forehead for being so stupid. I didn't need to risk starting a forest fire to use fire as a threat.

I magnified my fireball's intensity, turning it blindingly bright and blowing it up to the size of my own head. The timberwolves attacking me yelped and leapt back, and I waved the fireball back and forth through the air. Feeling a strain on my magic, I let go of the three I held in my telekinesis, and they immediately fled. The ones that had been attacking me ran as well.

A miniature sun floated before me. I picked myself up, and galloped into the woods, bringing it along with me. Its brilliant light shone through the trees, illuminating the woodlands as clear as day. Small rabbits and rodents, lumbering mushroom creatures, birds and bats up in the trees, and everything else around me all panicked and ran from view as they were suddenly exposed by my light. Up ahead, the timberwolves dragging Sir Loving Heart also tried to escape, but I wasn't going to let them.

I closed the distance with ease. The weight of a fully-armoured knight slowed the timberwolf pack enough that they didn't get far. I drew Brightflame and swung it at them threateningly, getting them to back off and freeing Sir Loving Heart, who shakily climbed to his hooves with laboured breaths. His wing was still twisted at an unnatural angle, and I imagined that he must've still been in great pain. The timberwolves started circling us, clearly apprehensive of the fire, but not as terrified as the others had been. A few howled.

I swung Brightflame and waved my fireball about whenever any of them got too close, hoping to drive them back, but still the pack wouldn't break. Unless I actually burned a few of them, I suspected that they never would. Maybe they knew from my hesitance that I was bluffing. Maybe they could smell my fear, and thought that their numbers still gave them an advantage. Either way, it was clear that we couldn't wait them out.

"What's the plan?" Sir Loving Heart gasped out, as he turned to cover our rear.

"You're asking me?" I shouted back. "You're the knight!"

"I'm a crippled knight. You're the one who's defeated these things before. What is the plan?"

I gulped and took a breath.

"...They'll keep reassembling from conventional damage," I said. "And they'll keep coming. We need to destroy their darkwood hearts. Fire is the only way I know how."

Sir Loving Heart and I stood back to back as the timberwolves surrounded us. Soon, more came to join the initial group, the ones I'd scared off before, no longer so frightened.

"Use whatever means you must," he said.

I hadn't been looking for his permission. Indecision still paralyzed me. I knew our lives were in my hooves, but so were many others. Killing monsters in self-defence was one thing, but I couldn't justify sacrificing a whole forest as collateral damage. We needed another plan.

I swallowed, holding steady. "Close your eyes and get ready to run."

"What?"

"On my mark. Three... two... one..."

I unleashed another burst of brilliant flame, aimed at the empty air. For a split second, the timberwolves all went blind, and Sir Loving Heart and I slammed them aside as we galloped past them and through the trees.

We didn't get far before they were on our heels again. I waved around a fireball behind us to discourage them from getting closer, and tried to ignore the burning in my lungs as the run took its toll. For all the experience I'd had in wearing it, my armour was still heavy and exhausting, and I was no earth pony. We couldn't keep this up for long before fatigue took me. I just hoped to get Sir Loving Heart to some place of safety before then. The worst the timberwolves could do was crush me to death, and I could come back from that, but my companion was another matter.

It was only after we'd already been running for a few minutes that I noticed their formation. The timberwolves weren't just behind us, but had actually formed a kind of loose semicircle. Most of the pack was to our rear, but some were to our sides, and we were already moving to avoid them without even thinking. I was too out of breath to voice it, but I realised then that we were being herded. To what or where, I didn't know.

I found out soon enough, though, as a horrible screeching noise rang out in the distance, and seemed to come closer and closer. The underbrush gave way to barren dirt, the trees were replaced by dead hunks of wood and twigs, and soon the two of us ran into a clearing littered with the bones of various animals. In the centre of it all, illuminated by my fireball, the gnarled, twisted form of the screaming tree shook violently, its leafless branches writhing like thick, black tentacles. The trunk of the tree twisted about, revealing a crude face formed of three deep holes in the bark, which shrieked at us with an ear-splitting cry that chilled my very soul.

Sir Loving Heart's shotel dipped from its ready position. "What manner of beast—"

I didn't let him finish. There was no time to explain, anyway. All my reservations vanished upon first sight of the tree, and I slammed the fireball into its trunk.

The thing was already screaming anyway, so its cries hardly became any worse. But its movements became even more wild and erratic as the flames engulfed it. We dodged to avoid its branches thrashing against the ground, pulverising the dirt and kicking up twigs and fragments of bone. The timberwolves all cried out as one, some collapsing in convulsions, and others staggering about the clearing.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Killing the tree meant killing the pack it controlled, or so Witchcraft had said. For a moment, I naively thought the battle settled, but it wasn't so simple. As the screaming tree's movements slowed, a number of green pods on its branches burst, and a black liquid trickled down its side. It looked like oil, but it smothered any flames it dripped over, and the fire didn't spread to any bark it dampened, even as the rest of the tree was charred black.

I prepared another fireball, and readied to throw it, when the light on the end of my horn flickered, and the flame sputtered out. The telekinetic field around Brightflame vanished as well, and my sword dropped to the ground. Its flames licked the dry twigs and branches of the forest floor for but a second, before they winked out as well, leaving only the burning tree itself to light the forest.

"Firelink?" Sir Loving Heart called out, sounding tense.

"It's draining us!" I shouted back. "It's eating our magic! We have to get out of here!"

Growling timberwolves surrounded us before we could even move our legs, having shaken off their trauma just as quickly as the tree had. They wasted no time in pouncing on us, knocking me to the ground with their sheer weight, grabbing my limbs and pulling, gnashing at my helmet, and generally trying everything in their power to kill me. Not enough of them were on top of me to risk crushing, and their jaws failed to deform the plate, but they were still physically stronger than I was, and now I had no magic to fight them with either.

Sir Loving Heart had it worse. Just as before, they gripped their teeth around his wings, pulling and twisting as he screamed louder than the screaming tree. There was a crunch and a visceral tearing as they ripped his wing off. A clatter of metal followed. I stared on helplessly at Sir Loving Heart lying on his side, splashes of red marring his golden armour, while the beasts clawed at the stump on his back and tried to pull his other wing loose.

His screams died down, giving way to pained groans and grunting. He tried to physically resist, but there were too many timberwolves on him. And then, as the final nail in the coffin, his helmet came off.

I saw it coming before the timberwolves did. It had been just a little too loose around the neck, and soon the regular jostling of their attacks had knocked it completely off. Sir Loving Heart's crowned helmet fell from his head and onto the forest floor, exposing his gaunt face and messy long mane. His eyes were red and wet, but his face was otherwise as blank as ever. He stared at me from across the clearing, and to this day, I have no idea what he must have been thinking in those last moments before the timberwolf closed its jaw around his neck and ripped out his throat.

Sir Loving Heart's face fell into the dirt. I screamed out his name, tears falling from my eyes. I tried to reach out toward him, but my hooves were held in another timberwolf's mouth. And deep within me, I felt an icy cold sapping my strength, a feeling of overwhelming weakness which was slowing my every movement.

I thought for a moment it was the shock of Sir Loving Heart's death, but that would've been too easy. No, I recognised the feeling soon enough. It was uncomfortably close to my first death, that numb feeling of total weakness immediately after Trusty Patches had betrayed me and stolen my soul. It was happening again. The screaming tree was done with simply disabling my spells, and was now pulling out the magic within me, the soul that had been Sunset's gift.

"S-Stop..." I muttered. "Not again... Not... again..."

A few of the timberwolves let me go. I blinked, disoriented. Had I commanded them, somehow? No. They were simply distracted by something else. Something new had entered the clearing, and some of the pack had broken off to warn it away. The timberwolves growled. There was movement in the corner of my eye. I mustered my strength and kicked away the ones biting my ankles, pulling myself up.

Sif ran around the outside of the pack, bounding back and forth with something clutched between his teeth, growling at any that came close to him. There were far too many of them. He was going to die just like Sir Loving Heart, and then this monstrosity was going to eat his soul as well and make him a part of its hivemind.

"Run, Sif!" I called. "Run!"

My voice momentarily confused the wolf. He hesitated, cocking his head in my direction, and the pack pounced on him too. Whatever he was carrying flew into the air and bounced off the screaming tree's trunk. I let out another anguished scream as yet another friend of mine was torn to shreds right before my eyes.

The timberwolves didn't have to pile on me this time. I dropped to my knees by myself, as if in surrender. My eyes squeezed shut to stop the tears, and I shouted curses to the tree as loud as I could, in hopes that it might hear me over the din of its own infernal screeching. I sensed the pack encircling me once more, ready for another attempt at pulling my armour open. I opened my eyes, ready to face them...

....Just as one of the mushroom creatures came lumbering into the clearing. It was much larger than the ones I'd seen before, twice my height standing, and quite bulky for its size, but plodding along at a ponderously slow pace. Like its smaller counterparts, it squinted in my direction through beady black eyes, though it was notably braver than they were, making a beeline straight for the timberwolves rather than running to avoid them. 

This must be mommy, I thought.

The timberwolves took its challenge, encircling the mushroom creature and growling out their usual warnings to it. The screaming tree also twisted about to face it, the flames on its exterior having now died down to almost nothing. Its branches creaked and twisted, and slammed down towards the mushroom creature, only for the creature to catch the branch in a hand as big as a bear's paw and snap it off.

I blinked, staring. The mushroom creature took another step closer to the tree, then another. As soon as it was in range, it wound back its arm, fingers curling into a fist.

The mushroom punched the screaming tree, tearing the trunk clean off its roots. It flew across the clearing, and smashed through the line of dead trees surrounding us with a thunderous crash. I swear I saw the air igniting around its fist.

"What the blazing hell?!" I screamed, recoiling as much in alarm as shock.

The timberwolves agreed with my sentiment, as all of them seemed to start having seizures at this. They collapsed in unison, spasmed for a bit, and then quickly fell limp. Seconds later, whatever magic held them together dissipated, as they all fell apart into formless piles of wood. Without the screaming tree's... screaming, a deathly silence fell over the forest clearing. I lay on my back, completely still, staring in terror at the mushroom creature which now stood where the tree once was, fist still outstretched.

It slowly turned my way, focusing its eyes on me. I gulped and scrambled back to get away from it, but backed up straight into a dead tree. The mushroom creature didn't move for a moment. Then it lumbered a few steps forward, leaned down, and picked up something on the ground. I recognised it as the thing Sif had been carrying in his mouth, which upon closer inspection, I could see was a tiny mushroom arm.

The mushroom creature stared at the severed arm for a while, losing all interest in me. I remained quiet, lying back against the tree and trying to make myself as small as possible. When it was done, it turned away and lumbered off again, stomping out of the clearing and back to wherever the hell it had come from. 

I stayed there for a minute, trying to comprehend what on Earth had just happened. As best I could tell, Sif had killed one of the mushroom children or... something, attracted a wrathful mushroom parent from somewhere, and led it here. Was it supposed to kill the tree? Had it just been meant as a distraction for the timberwolves so that we could get away? They seemed to be universally hostile, so it wasn't a great leap to assume that they'd attack a mushroom parent wandering into their clearing, but... I never knew that Sif was smart enough to come up with a plan like that.

Sif... saved me...

I walked to the middle of the clearing. Where the screaming tree had once stood, now there was only a stump. The things that were once timberwolves were now just piles of sticks and logs. And Sir Loving Heart and Sif, once living, breathing beings, were now bloody corpses. I collapsed next to Sif's remains, taking off my helmet and holding an armoured foreleg to cover my eyes.

I knew then that I was resilient enough to grief that it wouldn't hollow me. No more holding back my tears. No more running from tragedy, trying to forget. Sif and Sir Loving Heart had stuck by me to the bitter end. I would give them the burial they both deserved. The burial I should've given to what remained of Notch. And I would mourn them properly. They had earned that.

Then something behind me suddenly grabbed my hindleg and let out a loud gasp, making me scream and twist around. Sir Loving Heart, throat very much intact, if somewhat bloody, sucked in a breath of air. He stared wide-eyed at the forest ceiling, clawing at his face with his free hoof and flexing a new, unarmoured wing.

"Graaahh!" he screamed, before biting his lip and seething in obvious pain. "Firelink...! What... foul sorcery...? By Cadance, this is agony!"

I scrambled to my hooves and backed away, dropping my helmet to the ground as I stared at him, dumbfounded. Unable to say anything, I stayed there, frozen in shock. Then Sif padded up beside me and offered comfort the only way he knew how: by licking my cheek. I let him, remaining stock still as my eye twitched and my brain tried and failed to process what was happening.

...I should've been a Fire-Keeper, I concluded.





"Hahah... Was thine eye glancing hither? Thou needst not hide thy wonder. I am a mushroom, after all."