> Slingers
>  by Enter Madness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue-The Blood Begins to Flow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Twilight Shimmer was very good what she did. Some would say she was the best, but it was hard to tell at such a young age. Twice as bright, half as long, as they say. Still, it was hard to argue with results. At only twenty one years of age, the unicorn was one of the most successful Slingers of all time, having successfully completed over a hundred field missions since her official induction to the group at age eighteen. Most ponies would be proud of that number over the course of a decade, and she had done it in just three years. Now, she was on a mission.

        There had been a dramatic increase in reports of cult activity in recent months, and the Slingers had been busier than ever attempting to stomp it out. The reports had lessened over the last week, though, and Twilight Shimmer was following up on her last lead.

        Shimmer sat in a small booth in the corner of a small bar in the middle of a small town. It was the kind of bar where ponies went to wallow, a seedy joint that wouldn’t know a party if one bit it in the plot. She had a drink sitting in front of her, but she paid it no mind. She wore a downtrodden look, fitting in perfectly with the clientele, but it was a facade. A good disguise allowed you to move freely, seen but unseen. There were a few other ponies in the place, but her eyes were fixed on a pony at the bar. He was a tall, dark-brown earth pony stallion with a black mane and three bits for a cutie mark. He had ordered a drink too, but his attention was focused on the clock above the bar. Every few seconds he would glance up at it and shift uncomfortably on his stool. Even from here, Shimmer could see the nervous sweat forming on his brow. Shimmer went over everything she knew about the stallion in her head.

        Name: Cornelius Bit. Occupation: banker. Wife, two kids, small dog, lives here in town, ten years sober. Cornelius Bit took a long draught of his beverage, grimacing at the taste. Scratch that. Known occult affiliation.

        Cornelius’ eyes shot to the clock for the hundredth time. He downed the rest of his drink with another grimace and got to his hooves. He left a few bits on the counter and donned his saddlebags before heading for the exit. As soon as the door opened, Shimmer got up from her own seat and left a few bits on her table before following.

        She stepped outside into the fading light of the sun, glancing both ways before following her target. She passed several small restaurants and knick-knack shops, most family-owned and operated, and shook her head. How could anyone want to live in such a dinky little place? These small towns were breeding grounds for abnormal behavior. Every witch and cultist she had ever busted came from or operated out of a little hamlet like this one. They were nothing but trouble.

        Shimmer shook her thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. She looked ahead and noticed that Cornelius had stopped outside a house and was looking forlornly at the front door. Through the window, Shimmer could see a mare and two little fillies sitting down at a table for dinner. They were his family, she realized. Cornelius lingered for a moment before shaking his head and continuing his journey. Shimmer continued following at a safe distance.

        The sun was now barely peeking over the horizon, causing every object to cast a long, ghoulish shadow. Shimmer silently cursed the fact that there were no other ponies out and about; if her mark turned around, she would surely be seen. Whether or not her cover would be blown, she didn’t know, but she would rather not risk it. Still, this had to be done, so she kept walking. She followed him through the square and toward the other side of town.

        Once Cornelius reached the edge of town, he stopped. Shimmer had just enough time to hide her body behind a large bush as the stallion looked around, searching for any unwanted followers. Satisfied that he was alone, he started heading for the treeline. After a few moments, Shimmer risked a peek out from behind her hiding bush and saw that he was already halfway to the forest, as he had broken into a trot. Shimmer knew that if she followed him she across such flat land she would be easily discovered, rendering her mission pointless. So, she did the only thing she could.

        “Hey!” she shouted, galloping full speed toward the stallion. Her shout startled him, leaving him stunned for the briefest moment, but it was enough. Shimmer pumped her legs, flooding her muscles with latent magical energy. She moved faster than anypony watching would believe, closing the gap in moments. She tackled the earth pony to the ground and lit her horn, casting a spell to pin him down. Small indigo loops formed around his hooves and held him in place.

        “Please,” the stallion cried, his eyes wide with fear, “don’t hurt them! I didn’t tell them anything, I swear!” He started thrashing against his bonds.

        “Calm down!” Shimmer commanded, but the stallion wouldn’t listen. “I’m not who you think I am. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t get ahold of yourself.” She slapped him, hard, with a hoof. He looked shocked, but stopped thrashing.

        “You mean you’re not with the cu—“ He cut himself off, realizing what he had almost let slip. 

        “No, I’m not. I’m here to stop them, so I need you to tell me where you were going tonight, and what’s happening there.” 
   Cornelius shook his head furiously.“No, no no no, I can’t do that. They said they would kill my family if I talked. Please, just let me go.”

        “I’m sorry, Cornelius, but I can’t do that.”

        “How do you know my name!? Who are you?” Panic was creeping back into his voice. Shimmer kicked herself for the slip. If he became hysterical, she would never get anything out of him. She slapped him again.

        “I’m just somepony who’s trying to help.” She softened a bit. “Cornelius, I know you’re not a bad pony. You have a family who loves you and you love them back; I can see that.” Cornelius nodded. “I promise that if you tell me what I need to know, nothing bad will happen to your family. Okay?” Another nod. He was so focused on her words that he didn’t notice the soft glow around her horn, imbuing her words with calming magics. “Now, where were you going?”

        Cornelius took a deep breath. “If you keep going straight into these woods, you’ll come across a path. If you follow it to the left, there’s an old abandoned cottage. That’s where I was supposed to meet them for the ritual.”

        Shimmer grabbed his saddlebags and started rummaging around inside.

        “Hey, what’re you doing?” Cornelius asked, but Shimmer didn’t answer him. Instead, she pulled out a long black cloak. In one swift motion, she spun the cloak around herself, completely enveloping her body in the soft, midnight fabric. No matter where she was, cultist ponies always wore the same black cloaks. She put on Cornelius’s saddlebags and pulled the hood over her head. Then she folded the top of the hood, hiding her horn in the ruffles. Disguises were always preferable to cloaking of the magical nature. Magical hiding was difficult and could drain a lot of power if you weren’t careful. She wouldn’t pass for Cornelius Bit up close, but it should be enough.

        “I’m sorry, but I have to leave you here. I can’t risk you following me,” she told the brown stallion. She ignored his protests and walked into the woods, leaving him stuck to the ground.

        Shimmer’s eyes quickly adjusted to the oppressive darkness of the forest. The moon was now rising, but it was nearly new, so it cast little light. Shimmer had never been afraid of the dark; she learned at a young age that as long as you were vigilant, nothing could surprise you. She listened closely to the sounds of the forest, ensuring that nothing would sneak up on her.

        When she reached the path that Cornelius had spoken of, she turned left. From there, it wasn’t difficult to find the cottage. The small home looked completely abandoned; parts of the walls were missing, most of the roof was caved in, and mosses and vines were reclaiming the stone. Standing in front of the doorway was a pony wearing a black robe identical to the one Shimmer had. As Shimmer approached, she kept her head low, hiding her face.

        “It’s about time, Corne—” He didn’t get to finish the thought. Shimmer used her telekinesis to force his head into the wall, knocking him out cold. She stopped outside the doorway and held her breath, listening for any other adversaries. No sound came, so she ventured inside the ruined building.

        There was little room to move around inside due to the collapsed ceiling. Shimmer looked around, but the cottage was very small, only one room, and there were no other cult ponies inside. Her eyes looked up and focused on her horn as they often did when she was thinking. She paced back and forth, her hooves making a soft shuffling on the dirt floor. Then, there was a loud thunk as her hoof struck something solid.

        Shimmer looked down. She could vaguely see the outline of a square, and she cleared the dirt away with her hooves. Underneath the grime, there was a small wooden trapdoor with a metal latch. Shimmer smiled, reaching her telekinetic grip out to the ring and grabbing it. She gave a firm tug and the door gave way. There was a tunnel beneath  illuminated by a flickering light. The old wooden steps creaked loudly as Shimmer descended.

        She winced and stopped, listening for any unwanted visitors, but heard nothing. Sighing softly, she safely dropped the rest of the way into the tunnel. As she landed, she felt a sharp sting in her neck. She slapped at it, but came up empty-hoofed. Shrugging, she turned back to her surroundings. It was a large tunnel that only led in one direction: forward. Shimmer made sure her disguise was intact before continuing. The tunnel sloped downward at a slight incline.

        As Shimmer advanced, the hair on the back of her neck started to stand on end. She could feel a strange tingling sensation in her hooves and in her horn. There was magic in the air, and it only grew more prominent as she went further down the tunnel. Soon, she could see light ahead, and she hurried her pace.

        Twilight Shimmer gasped as she emerged from the tunnel. She was in a massive underground antechamber. The ceiling vaulted forty feet in the air, and the room was nearly a hundred feet across. The walls were dirt, worn unnaturally smooth by the presence of magic, but the floor was stone. Carved into the ground were lines in the shapes of various symbols and designs, and they were glowing an unearthly blue color. In the middle of the room there was a raised dais surrounded by three ponies wearing the same robes as Shimmer. That was not what caught Shimmer’s attention.

        On the dais was a pony. A pegasus mare, to be exact. She was a sea green color, and she was restrained by thick leather belts that bound her to the dais. She was flanked by two of the cultists, both unicorns. Their horns were lit, and large streams of blue energy were flowing from the magical appendages into the helpless pegasus. She was thrashing about, her face twisted in agony, but no scream escaped her lips. The two cultist’s lips were moving, no doubt chanting some vile incantation.

        “Ah, Brother Cornelius, you have arrived at last.” Shimmer was startled by the voice. She looked up and saw that the third cultist, also a unicorn, was approaching her. She hid her face as best she could and went to meet the repulsive creature. 

        “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up after all that unpleasantness with your family. I really am sorry that I threatened them, but this event is simply too important to not have you with us. I’m sure you understand, don’t you?” His voice was smooth, like silk. His words wormed their way into Shimmer’s mind, every syllable seeming to put her more at ease. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the sensation. She only nodded in response to his question, not wanting to blow her cover until she was close enough to do some serious damage to this pony.

        “Oh, and silly me; I forgot to tell you that you had a Slinger on your tail, but you seemed to have managed just fine.” 

        Shimmer’s eyes went wide and she raised her head, but she didn’t get the chance to fire off a spell. Her head slammed into the stone floor, making the world spin. She was raised into the air, caught in a magical grip, until she was face-to-face with the cultist. He was young and handsome, with piercing blue eyes and perfect white teeth, visible through his crooked smile. His coat was blood red, and his maroon-colored mane was slicked back. Shimmer thought back to the sting she had felt on her neck. It was a magical trigger, alerting the caster if anypony passed through it. How had she missed it?

        Shimmer tried to cast a spell, but he tapped his horn to hers and she felt the magic slip from her grasp. 

        “Ah ah ah, wouldn’t want you to ruin the fun, now would we, Shimmer?” Her eyes went wide at the mention of her name. “Oh, how rude of me, I didn’t introduce myself.” He stuck out a hoof as if he expected Shimmer to shake it. “I’m Bloodflow. Nice to meet you.” He withdrew his hoof and turned back to the dais. “The ritual is almost complete. Your little club may have delayed my progress, but you have no idea what you have failed to stop. You are about to bear witness to the birth of a new god, and then Equestria will be mine.” He magically shoved Shimmer backwards into the wall and held her there, returning his body to the dais. She tried to reach her magic, but it was no use. Whatever that pony had done, she was powerless.

        Bloodflow used his telekinesis to retrieve something from Shimmer’s saddlebags. As it floated across the room, Shimmer could see that it was a knife. It had a curved, dull-bronze blade that glinted in the ethereal light. He brought it to a rest, blade down, over the pegasus mare’s chest. She thrashed and squirmed, but it was no use. The blade plunged, and the room was filled with a blinding white light. Shimmer clenched her eyelids tight, but the light still hurt her eyes. Then, it was over, and the light retreated. Before she could open her eyes, Shimmer heard the knife clatter to the ground and felt herself fall, landing roughly on her knees.

        Shimmer opened her eyes. Her brain was confused by what her eyes were telling it they were seeing. There were now only two ponies in the room: Shimmer and Bloodflow. The two other cultists were gone, along with the pegasus. They just weren’t there anymore. Instead, Bloodflow was leaning over the dais, breathing heavily. He slowly stood up and turned to Shimmer. He opened his mouth, but instead of words, all that came out was an ear-piercing shriek. The blood-red unicorn fell to the ground, writhing in pain, clutching his head in his hooves. Shimmer wanted to run, to escape as fast as her hooves would allow her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from this miserable creature.

        Then, the screaming stopped. Bloodflow climbed unsteadily to his feet and glared at Shimmer, murder in his eyes. She hadn’t even made it two steps when she was flung against the wall. The breath was driven from her lungs, and she was sure she felt some ribs crack. She collapsed to the ground, waiting for the next blow, but it never came. She looked up to see Bloodflow on the ground again, but this time he wasn’t screaming. He looked straight at Shimmer.

        “Go!” he said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold him much longer!”

        Shimmer didn’t take the time to be confused, instead sprinting for the exit. She raced through the tunnel and out the trap door, down the wooded path and back through the woods, not stopping until she was standing on the edge of town. She collapsed, exhaustion taking hold. As she lay on her back, staring up at Luna’s stars, her vision faded. 

        Her last conscious thought was whether or not she had just witnessed the beginning of the end of the world.
        

> Brightly
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        The train station bustled with activity. Everywhere one looked there was something going on. There were ponies at newspaper stands, attracting passers by with calls of “Extra! Extra!” and vending the latest gossip to the masses; there were ponies boarding trains, ponies getting off trains, and ponies buying train tickets. The station was filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation, punctuated by train whistles as the metal behemoths arrived or left. The smell of fresh street food permeated the air. It was the everyday hustle and bustle of Canterlot, and for most ponies it was just the way things were. 

        Brightly Lulamoon hated all of it.

        The young, light-blue unicorn with the silver mane was incredibly uncomfortable in crowds. The large mass of ponies seemed to press down on him from all sides. He couldn’t move; he wouldn’t be able to stand it at all if he didn’t have a friend sitting with him on the bench that served as his refuge. Brightly had his eyes shut and was taking deep breaths to keep himself from hyperventilating. He jerked to the side when he felt a hoof on his shoulder.

        “Are you okay, Brightly?” It was Rose, Brightly’s best friend. Her name came not from the color of her coat, which was more of a peach, but from her dazzling scarlet mane. He felt comforted by her smile. He nodded.

        “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said softly, repositioning his glasses on his face. The crowds were always easier to deal with when Rose was around. She leaned back, her smile growing a little wider.

        “Good. I was worried I would have to drag you home again.”

        “That was one time!” Brightly protested. “I already told you, I—“

        “Calm down, Bright,” she responded with a laugh. “I’m only joking.”

        “Oh. Yeah, heh, I knew that.”

        Rose rolled her eyes. “Sure you did.”

        “Hey, aren’t you kids a little young to be here by yourselves? Where are your parents?” An old grey stallion with a business suit and hat on had stopped to speak to the children. Brightly froze. He didn’t do well with strangers.

        “What’s it to ya, bub?” Rose challenged, imitating the way the Canterlot street toughs talked. She got to her hooves and the stallion took a step back, despite being nearly twice her size.

        “Hey, easy now, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, taking another step back. His voice was trembling.

        “Then why don’t ya mind your own damn business, huh? Go on, scram!”

        The stallion turned tail and began hurrying in the other direction. Once he was a good distance away, Rose collapsed on the bench in fits of laughter.

        “Did you see the look on his face?” she asked in between giggles. Brightly just gave her a stern look.

        “That wasn’t funny, Rose,” he said. Even though Rose was eleven and he was only nine, he often felt like the more mature of the two. Some ponies around them were now pointing and whispering, and Brightly could feel his agoraphobia returning. He took some deep breaths.

        “Lighten up, Bright,” she responded, slugging him in the arm with her hoof. Brightly winced.

        “Ow!”

        “Oh, don’t be such a foal. You need to learn to stand up for yourself once in awhile.” As she said this, her eyes lingered on Brightly’s chin. He reached up with his hoof and gently prodded the affected area, producing a dull pain as he did so. The memory of a the previous week floated to the front of his consciousness.


(*)


        Brightly left Sister Jewel’s office with an enormous smile on his face, carrying the letter she had just given him. There was no stamp and no return address, but Brightly didn’t even notice. All that was important was what had been inside the letter. He got to go to school! He levitated the parchment in front of his face to read it through again.

        Dear Mister Lulamoon,

        This is a letter of congratulations on your remarkable aptitude scores for the entrance exam to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. You scored exceptionally well in almost all aspects of the exam, and I am proud to say that you not only passed, but have been considered for an advanced program offered by one of our prestigious donors. If you are interested, take the 9:30 a.m. train to Upper Canterlot exactly one week from when you receive this letter. There will be a pony waiting to escort you and your new classmates to where you will be staying. Bring a suitcase, as you will be staying at our facilities. Room and board are provided.


                                                                -Best Wishes,



M


        Contained within the envelope was a ticket for the train mentioned in the letter. Brightly was practically shaking with excitement, making it difficult to hold the letter still. He placed the letter back in his mouth and navigated the halls of Little Hooves Orphanage back to his room. He passed familiar bare walls and bare floors, and even a few other children, but he paid them no mind; he was lost on his own thoughts. Brightly had taken the exam with no expectations of success. He had been convinced that at nine years old, he was beyond any chance of escaping from the orphanage, but now here he was, going off to school. He giggled with glee.

        When Brightly reached his room, there were three stallions waiting for him outside. He recognized them as the bullies who regularly terrorized him.

        “Well, if it ain’t the little pipsqueak,” the oldest one, an earth pony named Dirk, said. Everypony called him “Dirt” behind his back, on account of his coat and mane color. He was at least a foot taller than Brightly, and much more muscular. Behind him were his two cronies; Wingding, a pink pegasus stallion, and Lady, a pale unicorn mare. They backed up Dirk’s words with sneers.

        “What ya got there, pipsqueak?” Dirk asked, snatching the letter from Brightly’s mouth with his hoof. Brightly leapt after it, trying to grab the letter back.

        “Give that back!” he said. “That’s mine!” A hard shove from Dirk quieted his protests and sent him roughly to the ground. 

        Dirk glared at the piece of paper as if it was going to bite him. After a long moment of concentration, Dirk passed the letter to Lady.

        “Read it to me,” he commanded “I’m, uh, too tired to read it myself.” Behind Dirk’s back, Wingding rolled his eyes.

        Lady acquiesced, reading the contents of the letter out loud in the hallway. When she finished, Dirk turned back to Brightly, who had picked himself up off the ground. Dirk’s demeanor had changed drastically. His eyes were full of a vengeful fury that Brightly had never seen before, and it terrified the small unicorn. Before he could react, Dirk had punched Brightly square in the face, knocking him to the ground again.

        “So, you think you can just up and leave, huh!?” Dirk delivered a swift kick to Brightly’s stomach, causing the small unicorn to groan. “You think that you deserve to leave this miserable Tartarus pit, while I’m stuck here to rot, is that it!?” Another kick, harder this time. “Answer me, you little prick!” Another kick to the stomach, followed by a kick in the face. Hot tears began pouring from Brightly’s eyes. Wingding put a hoof on Dirk’s shoulder.

        “Whoa Dirk, calm down. You’re really hurting him.” Dirk just pushed him away and stomped on Brightly’s stomach. Brightly felt a warmth in his throat as he coughed up blood onto the floor.

        “Hey Brightly!” It was Rose’s voice. “Guess what? I—“ Her words died in her mouth when she rounded the corner. Dirk turned to face her, and as their eyes met, time seemed to stop. Brightly passed out.

        When he came to a few seconds later, Wingding and Lady were nowhere to be seen and Dirk was on the ground in front of him. Rose was straddling the brown earth pony, holding his mane in her left hoof and hitting him repeatedly in the face with her right. Her hoof and his face were both covered in blood. Rose’s expression was twisted with rage. It scared Brightly. He reached a hoof out and touched Rose’s leg. She stopped and turned to him, then back to what she was doing. She leapt off of Dirk and vomited on the side of the hall, sickened with herself.

        Then, Brightly passed out again.


(*)



        “Bright? Hello, Equestria to Brightly.” Brightly shook his head, returning himself to the present. He muttered an apology.



        “Whatever you say, weirdo,” she responded. Brightly was about to protest when he saw the playful look in her eyes. He settled for a smile instead.



        CHOO-CHOOOOOOO.



        Brightly and Rose looked up to see a train rolling into the station. The electronic sign above the front window announced that it was the 9:30 train to Upper Canterlot.



        “That’s our train,” Rose said, hopping off the bench and pulling her luggage with her tail. Brightly followed close behind with his own suitcase, not wanting to lose his companion in the massive crowd of ponies. After giving their tickets to the conductor, the two orphans boarded the train. All the seats were already taken, so they were forced to stand. More and more ponies started packing into the car until Brightly thought he would suffocate. He started hyperventilating, his vision going a little blurry from the excess oxygen, when he felt Rose’s hoof reach over and grasp his. He looked up and found that they were so close their snouts were almost touching. Rose leaned forward and planted a quick peck on Brightly’s nose. His light blue coat turned beat red and he looked away, but he was smiling despite himself. The crowd no longer seemed so bad.



        The train ride was short; the trip from the Lower Districts to Upper Canterlot only took about ten minutes. When they had reached their destination, a voice came over the speaker.



        “Fillies and gentlecolts, this is your conductor speaking. Thank you for riding with Canterlot Rail Company. Please be careful exiting the train as there is a gap between us and the platform, and I hope you enjoy your day in Upper Canterlot.”



        The automatic doors slid open and a wave of ponies poured out of the train, pulling the two fillies in their wake. Once they were free from the tide and could get a look at their surroundings, the two young ponies gasped. Upper Canterlot Station was spectacular.



        The ceiling vaulted a hundred feet into the air, culminating in a mass of gilded arches and strange, abstract paintings. The floor was a bright white marble, polished to a mirror-like sheen. It reflected the top of the room seamlessly, creating an unsettling effect that made the room feel a lot larger than it was. The station was at least five hundred feet from end to end, and there were massive archways that led out into the streets of the richest part of the city. There were gargantuan columns placed intermittently around the whole station, keeping the roof from crashing to the ground. Even the ponies looked nicer. They wore fancy clothes and hats adorned with the feathers of countless different types of birds, and they all walked with their noses up in the air and their eyes closed, as if they were too good for what was going on around them. Rose leaned over to Brightly.



        “They look like they just smelled something sour,” she whispered. Brightly giggled, but tried to stifle it when two of the elitist ponies walked by. They cast him a condescending glance and turned their noses even higher, muttering a “hmph” before leaving. This made the foals laugh even harder until they burst out in loud guffaws.



        “Miss Rose? Mister Lulamoon?”



        The fillies suppressed their laughter and looked over the pony who had approached them. He was a tall, alabaster unicorn with a gleaming white coat and a black question mark adorning his flank. He carried himself with an air of pride.



        Rose cleared her throat. “Yes?” The stallion smiled.



        “Excellent. If you’ll follow me, please, your classmates are already waiting.” He turned and began walking away. Brightly looked at Rose, who shrugged and started following the pony. Brightly followed suit. They soon spotted their destination—there was a small group of other fillies standing near a newspaper stand. Brightly counted five in all.



        There was an orange filly with a red mane and a glowing red cross on her flank, who looked about Rose’s age. There was a set of twins, one male and one female, both a dirty blonde color with matching manes. The boy had a six-pointed star on his flank, while the girl had what looked like a spark of electricity. They looked to be the same age as Brightly. Next was a large grey stallion with a three intersecting loops for his cutie mark. They intersected in a strange way that Brightly had never seen before, like somepony took the infinity symbol and attache another loop to the top. He was clearly the oldest by at least a year. Finally, there was a tiny filly the color of the inside of a clam, who couldn’t have been any older than six, and whose flank was still blank. Brightly turned and examined his own cutie mark, as well as Rose’s. They were a black sphere with blue mist swirling around it and a double-helix, respectively. Despite their differences, they all had two things in common: they were all unicorns, and they all had magic-related cutie marks.



        “Now now, settle down,” the white pony said. “Now that you are all here, we can proceed to our destination. If you wish to ask me a question, you may call me The Proctor, and I will answer it as best I can. Now, any questions?” The fillies all looked at each other nervously, until Rose slowly lifted her hoof in the air. “Yes?” The Proctor said, raising an eyebrow at the little unicorn.



        “Where are we going?” All the other children nodded.



        “I’m afraid you will have to just find out when we get there. Now, any other questions? No? Alright, then let us be on our way.” The Proctor began walking away at a hurried pace, leaving the children scrambling to catch up.



        “Come now, you must keep up. Don’t fall behind.”



        As they left the newspaper stand, a headline caught Brightly’s eye.



        Skirmishes with Griffons Grow More Serious: Is Equestria on the Brink of War?



        “Brightly, come on!” It was Rose.



        “Coming!” Brightly called before running to follow her and the rest of the group, already forgetting about the headline.



        As they sped through the streets of Upper Canterlot, Brightly barely had time to admire the scenery. Everything was like the train station; bright white marble and gilded doorways, and ponies too concerned with themselves to pay attention to the outside world. It was so different from Lower Canterlot that Brightly could hardly believe it. There were no beggars, no dark alleyways, and no suspicious activity that he could see. Everything just seemed better up here. Rose seemed just as impressed as he was. Brightly found himself watching her just as much as he was appreciating how the upper crust lived.



        Soon they had weaved their way through the streets and arrived at their destination. The Proctor stopped outside of a plain white building with no discernible features. The only thing breaking the façade was a single red door, which the group was now gathered around. The Proctor pushed the door open with his magic and ushered the children inside. 



        The inside of the building was just as plain as the outside. The walls were bare save for a few magical lanterns, the floor was bare, and there were no other doors or windows in sight. It was just this one room. 



        Once all the children had gathered inside, The Proctor followed and shut the door behind them. They all turned to face him, expressions varying from confused to nonchalant to terrified.



        “Now, I suppose you are all wondering why you’re here, are you not?” The children nodded. “Well, you are here because of an exam you took. Specifically, the entrance exam for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Every so often, when a group of exceptionally talented young unicorns applies, the group I represent is notified. We then carefully pick a select few for purposes that will be revealed to you should you choose to accept the invitation. Now, the group I represent is very secretive; very few ponies outside the group itself are even aware of its existence. You need only know this: we are a group of ponies dedicated to the good of Equestria, to fighting against any threat to the safety of its citizens, whether it be magical or otherwise.



        “If you choose to accept the invitation extended to you by this group, you will be given room, board, and a home to call your own. You will be trained and given a very specific skill set which you will use to do as you are told for the good of Equestria. It will not be easy. It is dangerous work, and ponies have been killed in the line of duty, but it is a noble pursuit that they died for. I must warn you: your families, if you have them, will not miss you. Everypony who you have ever interacted with will claim to have never heard of you. We will see to it that all of their memories of you are erased. You will be given a new identity, and you can never return to the life you had. This is irreversible; if you choose to stay with us, you stay forever. 



“However, if you choose to reject the invitation, you will be returned to your family or respective locale with your own memory of this experience erased, and you will be given a full ride to enroll in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. We will never contact you again, and you will be blissfully unaware of our very existence. I understand that this is a lot of information to take in, so I will allow you some time to think it over.”



All the young unicorns in the room just stared uncomprehendingly at The Proctor, who seemed not to notice. He simply walked over to the wall and laid down, closing his eyes and lying very still.



	“So, what do you think?” Rose was the first one to break the silence. She was addressing Brightly, who mulled the question over, considering his response.



“This is crazy. I wanna go home, but at the same time, I don’t.”



        Rose nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, what is he even talking about? The good of Equestria? What’s that supposed to mean?” Brightly shrugged.



        “I guess, it's like the royal guard or something, just more secret. I don’t know, Rose, let’s just go. We can enroll in the school together.”



        “Hold on a sec, Bright. Think about it: we could help ponies. We could be heroes, and you heard what he said. ‘A home to call your own.’” She looked into Brightly’s eyes, and he could see sadness in them. “I don’t want to go back to the orphanage, Bright. I really don’t.”



        Brightly was torn. On the one hoof, The Proctor said this job would be dangerous. Ponies had died, and Brightly wasn’t exactly a force to be reckoned with. But on the other hoof, here was his best friend, his only friend in the world, pleading with him to stay with her. It was a big decision, but thoughts of what was waiting for him back “home” finally persuaded him. Brightly sighed, defeated.



        “Alright, I’ll stay,” he said. Rose squealed with delight, tackling Brightly into a hug. After a moment’s hesitation, he hugged her back.



        Maybe it’ll be fun, he lied to himself.



        “Well, has everypony made a decision?” Brightly started at the sound of The Proctor’s voice. He hadn’t even heard the pony stand, let alone move all the way back across the room. He examined the faces of all the children, who all nodded. “Excellent!”



        He went down the line, asking each pony in turn if they wished to stay. He finally reached Brightly and Rose, who both nodded. In the end, the little orange filly, the blank flank, and the twins left, leaving the older stallion, and the two orphans.



        “Alright,” The Proctor said once everypony had decided. He pointed a hoof at the ponies who had chosen to leave. “Stay here,” he commanded. “Two ponies will be out soon to escort you back to your homes and take care of the arrangements.” He then pointed to the rest of them. “As for you, follow me.” 



        The Proctor turned and started walking toward the back wall. The children who had chosen to stay followed. When he was close to the wall, The Proctor’s horn started to glow. He swiped his head from left to right and the wall faded away, revealing an elevator. He pushed the call button and the doors slid open. The children followed him inside. There was only one button inside the elevator, and the pure white unicorn pushed it in.



        All ponies present got a strange weightless feeling as the lift raced downward. Soon, the trip was over, and the elevator came to a stop with a ding. 



        As the door’s opened, The Proctor spoke.



        “Welcome to the rest of your lives.”








        


> A Visit/Introductions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Before Shimmer’s eyes even opened, she ran through a quick mental checklist. Where was she? In a bed, under the covers. Was she hurt? No. Smells in the room? Fabric softener and a slight hint of sweat. Sounds? Other than her own heartbeat, she could hear the soft sound of another pony breathing. She wiggled all  of her faculties to make sure they still worked, and only then did she act.

        Shimmer cast the covers aside and rolled off the bed, her trained eyes telling her all she needed to know about the room in that instant.

        She was in a small room with one door and one window. The bed was situated in front of her and slightly to the right, and there was a nightstand on the left side. The lamp resting on the nightstand could make a decent weapon. Her back was to the door, which she didn’t like. It made her too vulnerable. She was facing the window, and could see the silhouette of a pony sitting on the writing desk below the window.

        “I was wondering how long you were just going to lay there before actually getting up,” the pony said. Shimmer’s muscles tensed up and she stared in wide-eyed disbelief. That was a voice she never thought she would hear again. She narrowed her eyes at the pony.

         “What are you doing here, Dante?” Her voice was like ice.

        Dante hopped down from the desk, causing Shimmer to unconsciously take a step back. With the faint moonlight streaming in through the window Shimmer could barely make out his features. He was a unicorn of average build with a midnight black coat and a slicked back grey mane. His cutie mark was a snake, coiled to strike, and he wore a smug smile.

“Sheesh, three years and that’s all the greeting I get? What happened to the sweet little unicorn I used to know?” His voice had a boyish lilt to it that used to drive mares crazy, including Shimmer. She fought to keep her heart rate under control.

        “You know full well what happened.”

       	“What, are you still on that?” he asked.

       	“No, I moved on a long time ago. It looks like you’re the one who can’t let go. Why else would you be here?”
                
“Geeze, no need to get defensive about it,” he said, raising his hooves.

        “You didn’t answer my question.”

       “I heard you were in town and decided to stop by.” Dante took a step forward, causing Shimmer to take another one back. “Come on Shimmer, I’m not going to hurt you.”

        “Why not? You did before, remember?”

        Dante sighed. “You know, I never meant for things to happen that way. I didn’t want you, or anypony else to get hurt.”

        “Could’ve fooled me.”

        “Shimmer, please. You know I would never hurt you.”

       “You keep saying that, but you don’t mean it. You can’t, otherwise you never would’ve left. Why did you have to leave us? Leave me?”

        Dante sighed. “We’ve been over this. What you ponies are doing is wrong. Controlling other ponies lives, erasing memories, it’s all wrong! You claim to be doing ‘the will of Equestria,’ but all you do is blindly follow orders. I couldn’t be a part of that anymore, so I left. You know the rest. I didn’t want to leave you, Shimmer, but I couldn’t stay.”

        Shimmer could feel tears forming in her eyes. “Go,” she said.

        “Come with me, please,” Dante said, holding out a hoof. “I can break the oath. You could be free. We could be free, together.”

        “No,” Shimmer responded.

        “Why not?”

        “Why? Why wouldn’t I want to give up the only home I’ve ever known? Why wouldn’t I want to stop helping ponies and live on the run, hunted like an animal by the ponies I used to call my friends and family?”

        “It’s not that bad.”

        “No. I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say,” Shimmer said.

        “Just let me—“

        “No. Get out.”

        “Dammit Shimmer, if you won’t come with me, at least let me help you! Would you just shut your mouth and listen for once!?” Shimmer’s look soured, but she stayed quiet. “Thank you. Now, I wasn’t totally honest before—”

        “There’s a shocker.”

        Dante glared at her. “I didn’t just come to see you. I came to warn you. Somepony you know isn’t who they say they are.”

         “Yeah, I’m looking at him.”

        “I’m serious Shimmer. You need to watch your back.”

        “Just go Dante.”

        Dante sighed. “You know what? Fine. I’ll leave you alone, I just thought you should know that you have a rat in your precious little organization.”

        “Yeah, right, like I’d believe anything you tell me. You lied to me before, or do you not remember?”

        “Shimmer, I’m just trying to protect you.”

        “Don’t feed me your lies. How could you even know if there was a rat?”

        “I have my resources. I haven’t just been lying around for three years.”

         Shimmer gasped. “Have you been spying on us? How can you expect me to believe anything you say?”

         “Fine, believe me or don’t, I don’t care. But when you’re lying in the gutter with a knife in your back, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

         With that, Dante climbed onto the writing desk and magicked the window open. Shimmer reached for her own magic to stop him, but she couldn’t get ahold of it. Every time she reached for it, it slipped through her grasp like she was trying to hold grains of sand. Dante stood on his hind hooves in the window, lingering for a moment.

         “Watch your back,” he repeated. “Please, Shimmer.” Then he fell backward out of the window. Shimmer rushed after him, but by the time she reached the window, he was already gone. She stamped her hooves in frustration.

         Shimmer returned to the bed and slumped down on it, contemplating her next move. She was seriously doubting Dante’s credibility, but what if he was right? What if there really was a rat in the Slingers? Then her thoughts turned to the previous night. The ritual, Bloodflow’s strange words as he allowed her to escape, it all seemed so bizarre. How had the cultists gotten so much prepared without them knowing? How had Bloodflow known Shimmer was coming? As much as she hated to admit it, the signs pointed to Dante telling the truth. Shimmer wanted desperately to find Bloodflow, but without her magic, there was no way she could go after the cult pony on her own. No,  the best course of action was to return to Canterlot and the Slingers and go from there.

        Shimmer approached the window, preparing to leave just as Dante had, but something stopped her. She turned back to the room. This was somepony’s home, somepony who had taken Shimmer in when was injured, and she was about to leave without even thanking them for it.

        It can’t be helped.

        But that wasn’t exactly true. Shimmer made the bed and made sure the room was clean. She sighed. It didn’t matter what she did. When she made it back to the stronghold, The Ghost would come and erase any evidence of her presence, just like always. She cleaned up anyway.

        Shimmer dropped noiselessly to the ground outside the window and started down the path out of town. The closest village with a train station was a good days walk away, and before the sun had risen, Shimmer was on her way home.


(*)


        “Welcome to the rest of your lives.”

        The elevator doors slid open, giving the children their first glimpse of the Slinger stronghold.  The first few steps off the elevator led the children onto a balcony overlooking the rest of the room. The walkway hugged the right wall, curving around a third of the room before melting into stairs that led to the ground floor of the room. There was no safety rail on the balcony, giving a sickening sense of vertigo. The room was well lit by ghostlights, magical lanterns that could be recharged and lasted for several weeks. Everything was white, but not the shining, pristine white of the rest of Canterlot. Rather, it was a softer white, lending a sense of safety and security. The balcony was made of a strong, dark wood, but the ground floor was carpeted. There were two ponies waiting just off the elevator.

        The Proctor stepped off the elevator, prompting the young unicorns to follow him.

        “We have some guests upstairs who refused our invitation,” he said to the two ponies. “Please make sure they reach their respective homes safely.” The ponies nodded and went into the elevator. Soon, they were gone.

Once all of the children were gathered, The Proctor spoke to them.

        “This will be your new home. This is the lobby, an area that simply connects one half of the stronghold to the other. Now, if you will follow me,” he said, making his way around the edge of the balcony with the children in tow. They descended the steps to the ground floor. Now that they were at base level, Brightly could see that there were two hallways on opposite sides of the room. The Proctor led the group over to one.

        “This hallway leads to the west wing. The west wing houses the barracks, where you and the other Slingers will be staying, and also contains the mess hall, where meals will be served three times a day, and the infirmary, should you suffer any injuries. Now, I-yes, what is it?”

        The older stallion had his hoof raised. “Slingers?” His voice was much deeper than Brightly was expecting.

        The Proctor laughed, a strange barking sound. “Silly me, I’ve forgotten to tell you, haven’t I? The Slingers are what we call ourselves, this little group. It's short for spell-slingers, an old term for unicorns.” He quickly returned to his tour guide-like attitude. “Now, as I was saying, the mess hall, barracks, and infirmary are through here, but we will return later, when it is time to meet The Matron. First, we will see the rest of the building.”

        He trotted across the room, keeping his usual hurried pace. When he reached the other doorway, however, he didn’t stop. He passed the threshold and led the children into the hallway. The passage was wide enough to fit everypony in the group side-by-side, and the ceiling stretched at least five feet above The Proctor’s head.

        “Now, this is the east wing. This part of the stronghold houses the training rooms, the library, and the alchemy laboratory. First stop, the library.” 

        The Proctor turned suddenly, opening a heavy wooden door and directing the children through it. What followed could only be described by Brightly Lulamoon as “bliss.”

        It was the largest library Brightly had ever seen. There were three floors, and the back wall stretched so far back that the young unicorn could hardly make it out. The shelves were lined with what had to be hundreds of thousands of books. Back at the orphanage, Brightly had thoroughly exhausted the meager book supply, but here, he could be entertained for days, years even. There were a few ponies reading in chairs around the library or browsing the shelves, but they ignored the group. Brightly fell back on his flank, awestruck.

        The Proctor chuckled at the small unicorn’s expression. “Yes, Mister Lulamoon, it is quite the collection, isn’t it?” Brightly could only nod dumbly. “We believe firmly that knowledge is power, so we have accrued as much knowledge as we were able in our two hundred year lifespan. We have rare books that can be found almost nowhere else in Equestria, books that contain knowledge struck from the history books and spells forbidden from use by the general public. Yes, we have quite the collection, indeed.” The group was approached by a blue unicorn, a mare stooped with old age. “Ah, here comes The Keeper now. How are you, Keeper?”

        “Fine, fine, thank you Proctor.” She eyed the young ponies suspiciously. Brightly shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze. She turned back to the Proctor. “New blood?” 

        “Why, yes, in fact, I’m giving them the tour now. Say hello to The Keeper, children. She keeps this library in working order; this would be impossible without her.” The children all muttered some semblance of greeting to the aging pony.

        “Eh, just make sure they don’t break nothin’,” she said, shuffling away at a snail’s pace.

        “She’s quite a character, isn’t she? You’d do well to treat her with respect. Now, we do have a bit of extra time before you must meet The Matron, so feel free to wander around for a bit. You can check out any book you like, but be quick about it.”

        Brightly moved through the library as if in a haze, grabbing books off the shelves and reading the titles before replacing them. How was he supposed to choose just one book out of all of these? They all seemed important, all seemed interesting, and Brightly thought he would drown if he tried to read them all.

        Brightly shook himself from his thoughts and looked around. In every direction, all he could see was books. He had lost sight of the entrance, and could see nopony else. He started to panic, walking quickly this way and that, trying to find his way back to The Proctor, when he came across a small alcove. The entrance was covered by iron bars and there were three relatively small bookshelves inside. Resting on a platform in the middle of the room was a small book, no larger than a pocket diary, that was bound in leather. 

        “Quite a sight, ain’t it?”

        Brightly jumped out of his skin. He turned around and saw The Keeper standing behind him, laughing.

        “Sorry, young’un, didn’t mean to scare you. You like to read, don’t you?” Brightly nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. “I thought so,” The Keeper continued. “Come with me.” Her horn started to glow and the bars over the alcove dissolved, allowing the two unicorns to pass through, the bars reforming behind them.

        “This is the Twilight Sparkle wing of the library, though it’s more of a room than a whole wing. It contains every book that out founder, Twilight Sparkle, wrote over the course of her life. Including this little beauty.” She stopped in front of the platform with the small book. “This is the Book of Truth, enchanted by Twilight Sparkle herself. They say that it answers any question you ask it, but nopony in my lifetime could make the darned thing work.”

        Brightly stared wide-eyed at the book. It answered any question you asked it? How was that even possible. Brightly reached for the book, but got a sharp slap on the wrist from The Keeper.

        “What do you think you’re doin,’ child? This here might be the most valuable book in all of Equestria! Don’t put yer grubby little hooves all over it. Here,” she said, levitating a book off of one of the other shelves. “I think you’ll like this one. This is an autobiography of Twilight Sparkle’s life, down to the last detail. It’d do you young'uns good to learn about yer elders.”

        Brightly took the book in his own magical grasp. If he could only get one book, he might as well go with the one The Keeper suggests. He just nodded to her again.

        “You don’t talk much, do you?” The Keeper asked. Brightly shook his head. “Well, you’ll come around eventually. Come on, I’m sure The Proctor’s waiting.”

        The Keeper led Brightly back through the maze of bookshelves. He marveled at how far he had traveled. The library was huge! How would he ever learn his way around? He shook his head; he would worry about that later.

        “There you are, Bright,” Rose said, giving Brightly a hug. “Where’ve you been? I was worried about you!”

        Brightly held up his book. “The Keeper was helping me find a book,” he said. He saw that Rose had a book on magical combat and the other unicorn had a book about potions and alchemy.

        “Well don’t disappear on me like that again.” Brightly nodded.

“Alright, children, come along, we haven’t much time,” The Proctor said, ushering the children out of the library and hurrying them along to the next door.

Before they even made it through the door, Brightly could guess what the room was, as there were thick plumes of smoke billowing out. The Proctor either didn’t notice or was used to it, because he made no mention.

        “This is the alchemy lab, where certain very talented individuals in our organization make potions and brews.” He opened the door and the children were hit with a cloud of acrid smoke. It didn’t seem to bother The Proctor, who strolled through it unaffected.

        The lab was a marvel to look at. There were shelves lined with seeds, powders, liquids, roots, leaves, herbs, and a myriad of other mystical ingredients. There were three tables set up in the room, and each had a different set of complicated looking glass apparatus. There was a zebra waving a hoof in front of his face, clearing away smoke that was pouring off of a vibrant green liquid sitting in a vial. The zebra had a white lab coat and a set of thick goggles with dark lenses. Smoke still lingered in the air.

        “Children, this is The Chemist. He is our master of concoctions.”

        “New recruits, huh?” He rushed over to each of the children, vigorously shaking their hooves. “A pleasure to meet you all, but if you don’t mind I am quite busy at the moment.” He stopped when he reached the older stallion and saw his cutie mark. “What is your name?” he asked.

        “Tonic,” he responded. The Chemist laughed.

        “My, how fitting. Pray tell, do you have any experience mixing potions?”

        “Some. My father ran a potion business, but he almost never let me help. Said I would get in the way.” Tonic sounded resentful.

        “Do you know what the best way to mix Hargrave with Flax Seeds is?”

        Tonic thought for a moment. “Mortar and pestle in a dry, dark environment.”

        “What about priming wheat for use in a curative elixir?”

        “Dip it in vinegar and let it dry in the sun.”

        “And the difference between Elves Ear and Timberwolf bark in reference to use for an invisibility potion?”

        Tonic grasped for an answer for a few moments, but soon hung his head in defeat. “I don’t know,” he said.

        Brightly watched the exchange with intense interest. He didn’t know anything about alchemy and it was like the two ponies were speaking another language. 

        “Yes, I see.” The Chemist turned to The Proctor. “Have they been apprenticed yet?”

        The Proctor shook his head. “Not yet.”

        The Chemist smiled, exposing white teeth. “Excellent. I’ll take this one.” Tonic furrowed his brow, but said nothing.

        “They still have to meet The Matron before they can be officially apprenticed.”

        “I know how it works, Proctor, just make sure I get this one. He has quite the talent for what I do. I seem to recall you owing me a favor…” He trailed off with a knowing smile on his face.

        “Very well, I will see what I can do. Alright, follow me children.” The Proctor left the room and The Chemist called some polite goodbyes before replacing his goggles and returning to his work.

        Once the group was back out in the hallway, Rose spoke up. “Why do we need potions if we can all use magic?”

        It was Tonic who answered. “Magic can’t do everything, and it takes energy to use. Potions can make a pony invisible, or give him seemingly endless stamina, without draining his energy like a spell would. A good potion maker can trump a good magic caster any day.”

        “My, your name does fit you quite well,” The Proctor said. “I think The Chemist will be quite happy to take you as an apprentice.” Tonic nodded in appreciation. The group started moving again.

        “That’s another thing,” Rose said. “Does anypony around here have a name?”

        “My dear, of course we have names. We just choose not to use them. Names have power, and it is imperative in our line of work that nopony hold power over us. You will all choose new names as well when the time comes. Titles such as mine or The Chemist’s, however, are reserved for ponies who stay in the stronghold and keep it running.”

        Rose fell silent. They would be getting new names? What else about them would change? It was all so much to take in for Brightly. His thoughts glazed over until The Proctor spoke and they were at their next destination.

        “This is the primary training room.”

        The room was spacious. There were targets set up along one wall, some round, some in the shapes of various creatures and even other ponies. There were weights and lifting benches on the other side of the room, and in the middle of the room was a large red circle drawn on the ground. Standing in the circle were two ponies. Neither moved, but their eyes were locked on each other. 

        The Proctor leaned down to the children. “Based on your book selection, I’d say you’re in for quite the treat, Miss Rose,” he whispered.

        The blue unicorn in the circle moved, horn suddenly aglow. Small blue orbs of condensed energy fired from her horn at a rapid pace, but the other unicorn, an amber colored stallion, simply stood there. Brightly wondered what her was doing when the magical bolts dissolved in mid air, like they hit a wall. With every collision, an orb of energy surrounding the amber unicorn flickered. He moved to the middle of the arena while his opponent ran circles around him, still firing.

        Then, the blue unicorn threw herself at the shield, passing through it unharmed. The amber unicorn barely had time to dodge out of the way and put up another shield to block the next onslaught of magical projectiles. By this time, both unicorns were panting from exertion. The blue one’s horn glowed a little brighter and an ethereal broadsword appeared in the air next to her. Her opponent followed her example, conjuring two small, ghostly tantos. They both lunged, magical weapons colliding with a sound like ringing steel. Blue overstepped with her swing and Amber saw his chance. He lunged with both his blades but Blue was too quick. She spun out of the way at the last instant and smacked her enemy on the back of the head with the flat of her blade. He flew out of the circle and Blue stood, breathing heavily and exhausted, but triumphant.

        “This is the sparring arena, where Slingers keep their skills sharp against one another.”

        That confused Brightly. They fought each other? It seemed backward. He shrugged mentally.

        Practice makes perfect, I guess.

        The ponies who had been sparring came up to the group. The loser was nursing the wound on the back of his head, and both ponies had sweat pouring down their faces.

        “Are you two at it again?” The Proctor asked.

        “Yeah,” the icy-blue unicorn answered.  “This dweeb never learns his lesson, no matter how many times I pound it into his skull.” She glanced over the group. “Newbies?” she asked. She had a thick Trottingham accent. 

        “Yes, these are the recruits. Children, meet Winter and Summer.”

        Brightly guessed that the blue mare was Winter, and that made the stallion Summer. He was the color of wheat, with a deep orange mane. Brightly wondered if they were born with the names, but then remembered what The Proctor had said. It made him sad to think that he would lose his name. It was a part of who he was, and he could change it just like that?

        “Hmmm,” Winter said, examining Rose. “What’s your name?”

        “Rose,” she responded, unfazed by the scrutiny. Winter had Rose open her mouth to examine her teeth, looked in both her ears, ran a hoof through her mane and coat, and examined her cutie mark, all with intense interest. Brightly admired Rose’s nonchalance; he probably would’ve melted under Winter’s gaze. Summer just hung back, regarding the group with mild disinterest.

        “Can you cast yet?” A look of confusion flashed over Rose’s face before she realized what the blue unicorn was asking. She nodded eagerly. “Good.” Winter took a few steps back and motioned the other ponies away. “Can you hit that target?” she asked, nodding to the far end of the field.

        “We don’t have time for this, Winter,” The Proctor said. “The Matron is expecting us.”

        “Don’t get your tail in a knot, Proc; I just wanna see what she can do. It’s gotta happen sooner or later right?”

        “But The Matron—”

        “Hit the target, Rose,” Winter said, ignoring The Proctor. He flared his nostrils. Apparently he didn’t like being told what to do.

        Rose lined up the target with her horn, which started to glow moments later. Her face twisted and the glow became brighter. Then, it condensed into a small orb of pure magical energy and rocketed from Rose’s horn—directly at the wall ten feet above the target. Where it landed, the wall splintered, leaving a smoking hole the size of the caster’s head. Winter whistled.

        “You got a lot of power, kid,” she said, “just no control. I’ll be keepin’ my eye on you.” Rose didn’t know whether to smile or scowl, so she just returned to Brightly’s side.

        “I didn’t know you could do that,” he whispered in her ear.

        “Neither did I,” she admitted.

        “Well, If you are quite finished young lady, it is time for the children to meet The Matron.” 

        Winter waved a hoof at The Proctor. “Yeah, yeah, I’m done.”

        “Right. Alright children, this way. It’s time for you to meet the pony that keeps this place running.” The Proctor led the children out of the training room, past the alchemy lab and the library and through the lobby to the west wing. The west wing hallway was nearly identical to the east wing. They stopped outside a large set of double doors. The Proctor used his telekinesis to push them open and ushered the young unicorns inside.

        It was a grand hall, almost as large as Upper Canterlot Station itself. Brightly wondered just how far underground they were that the ceiling could stretch so high. There were alcoves in the walls, each one containing the stuffed form of a fierce wild creature. There was a manticore, a cockatrice, a trio of Timberwolves, and a few other Brightly didn’t recognize. There were two wooden tables side-by-side that stretched only part way across the room, despite each being twenty paces long. Standing in the middle of it all was a middle-aged purple mare.

        “Children, meet The Matron.”

        The Matron was older, Brightly guessed in her forties, but she was strong. She had a lithe muscle structure that betrayed her true speed and agility. She wore a gentle smile and her eyes were jovial and friendly. Her mane was relatively short and had a violet streak running through it.

        “Hello, children,” she said. Her voice was warm and inviting, and it put Brightly at ease just to listen to. She had a presence that the young unicorn just found intoxicating. Brightly had often imagined what it would be like to be adopted, but even in his fantasies he had not imagined a pony so perfectly motherly. “I am The Matron,” she continued, approaching the ponies. “It is my job to keep all of the Slingers safe and to run the day-to-day operations.

        “Now, you may call me Matron or ma’am, but never anything else. Understood?” The children nodded. “Good, down to business then.” The air itself seemed to change as The Matron’s attitude shifted from kindly to somber. In that tiny instant, Brightly thought The Matron looked much older than she had before. 

        “When you join the Slingers, you make a commitment. You will take an oath steeped in magic and sorcery, and it will bind you to our service for the rest of your lives. We serve the good of Equestria; nothing else. There is no truth save for our truth, no justice save for our justice, no purpose save for our purpose. What we do, we do for the good of this kingdom, and for nothing else. We forsake personal gain. We do this not for wealth, or power, or for our own sake, but for the sake of everypony born in this land. This is the oath you swear. You will obey my commands, bend to my will, as I obey the commands and bend to the will of Equestria. We work in secret for the good of the masses; ignorance is bliss, and we keep them ignorant. There is evil in this world, have no doubt about that, but we seek to stamp it out. For the good of Equestria.

        “You will not question your commands, you will listen and obey. Listen and obey, that is your creed, and your life. You listen to my words, for they are the deepest wishes and gravest needs of our kingdom. Listen and obey, there is no other option. What we do may seem wrong at times, but you cannot question, you cannot disobey, and above all, you cannot act on your own volition. You may think you know what’s best; I can assure you that you do not. Listen and obey. For the good of Equestria. This is how you will live. I will give you one last chance. If you choose to leave, leave now, and you will forget all about us and what we do. But if you choose to stay, I can promise you a home and a family you can trust. You will be given a new identity, and your old one will be obliterated. They will cease to exist, and you will become somepony else, completely and totally. This is the only way it can be. If you choose to leave, speak now, or forever bind yourself to us.”

        Brightly glanced at Rose, who wore a look of fierce determination on her face. Even if he was willing to go back to the orphanage, he couldn’t abandon Rose. If he went back and she stayed, they would have to erase his memories of her. The thought made him sick. Brightly looked down the line. Tonic had also clearly already made up his mind. Brightly was the only one who even seemed to be considering leaving, and he banished the thought as soon as it crept into his mind. He would stay. He had to. For Rose.

        The Matron’s pleasant smile returned when she saw the looks of conviction adorning each face in front of her.

        “I see. It makes me happier than you can know to see such eagerness to aid our nation in the younger generation. Now that that’s settled, your induction rituals will be tonight, and tomorrow you will be assigned as apprentices to one of our Slingers. They will train you in our art, and you will learn all you can from them. Until tonight.”

        With that, The Matron turned and left, seeking a door at the back of the mess hall. The Proctor led the children from the mess hall to the barracks where they would be staying, but Brightly barely paid attention to what he was saying. The young unicorn had an uncomfortable knot in his twisting in his stomach.

        Have I just made a terrible mistake?

        

> Prophecy/Birth of a Lunatic
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Rimbold leaned over the forge, sweat dripping off his face. In his right claw he held a hammer of pure silver, a seamless outer skin not broken by scratches or mars, despite it being the only hammer he ever used. He brought it down onto the anvil, striking the red hot iron bar and shaping it to his will. Strike after strike fell, filling the air with the song of the forge, until the iron had taken the shape of a blade. He tapped the edges, hammering them to be razor sharp. The blacksmith was lost in his own world, oblivious to the intense heat of the forge. He was chanting under his breath, the words seeming to permeate their air with their presence, working their way down to the iron, which devoured them hungrily.

        He doused the glowing metal in a barrel of cool water and placed it back into the forge before getting a rag and wiping the sweat from his brow. Forging was hard work, magic forging doubly so. The chants that came from his beak strengthened the metal beyond normal forges, tempering the blade so that it wouldn’t break, wouldn’t yield, and wouldn’t dull. It was a technique Peirce had taught him, and it made Rimbold renowned as one of the greatest blacksmiths who had ever lived, griffon or otherwise. Rimbold sighed and leaned against the wall, gazing at his silver hammer and thinking of his friend. The hammer was the result of another of Peirce’s “quests.” Rimbold never understood why Peirce wasn't interested in the things he insisted they find.

        “Eh, never really wanted it anyway,” Peirce had said when Rimbold had tried to give him the hammer. Peirce had flashed him his lopsided grin. “Getting it’s half the fun.”

        The rest of the room was dark save for the forge, which cast dancing shadows with its dim light. Rimbold reached over to squeeze the bellows and the hammer changed. It seemed to melt, but it didn’t pool on the ground. Instead, the now-liquid formed to his claw and flowed up his arm, forming back into a solid mass as a gauntlet that covered from his elbow to his claw. He marveled at the sight; Quicksilver never seemed to lose its novelty.

        Rimbold was squeezing the bellows when he felt the air change. He probably wouldn’t have felt it at all if he hadn’t been expecting it. There was now another griffon in his house, just like Peirce had told him there would be. Being friends with a prophet had certain advantages.

        The assassin entered the room quietly, almost silently, and Rimbold pretended not to notice. The assassin had rubber tips on his claws to reduce the noise he made.

At least they didn’t send am amateur this time.

The griffon crept around the edge of the room, working himself into a position behind the blacksmith. He moved like the shadow of death, but Rimbold had come face-to-face with that shadow too amny times to be intimidated by it. When the assassin was just behind Rimbold and had drawn a dagger, the master of Quicksilver spoke.

        “Nice try.”

        The assassin’s surprise at the words stunned him for only a moment, but it was enough. Rimbold spun around and the Quicksilver changed form, flowing down and forming a club at the over its master’s claw. The mass struck the would-be assassin in the side of the head with a crack, sending him sliding across the floor. Rimbold didn’t know whether he was unconscious or dead, nor did he care. Rimbold heard a whistle in the air and barely ducked the knives that embedded themselves in the wall where his head had been a moment before.

        Two? The bastard didn’t say there would be two.

        But that was the problem with prophecy. You could never be sure, could you? Peirce could tell him the name of the blacksmith who makes the dagger that kills him, but not when or where it will be used. He could tell that an attempt would be made on his life that night, but not why, or even how many assassins there would be.

        Rimbold looked to the doorway and saw the outline of another griffon. Soon, two more knives were whistling through the air with deadly accuracy. Rimbold lifted his arm and the Quicksilver formed into a metallic disk, the knives clattering uselessly to the ground against his shield. He lunged forward, arm outstretched, and the Quicksilver reached with him. It extended past his arm in the shape of his claw and seized the killer’s head, yanking it down and smashing it into the ground. The metallic artifact returned to its master and formed back into a gauntlet.

        Rimbold listened carefully for any other intruders and, hearing none, searched his house. He lit oil lamps as he went, looking in every nook and cranny for any unwanted visitors. As he passed his back door, he started at the sound of knocking. He prepared his weapon and flung the door open, rearing back to strike whatever had knocked, but froze when he recognized the face.

        “Are you going to put that down?” Peirce asked.

        “You didn’t say there would be two.” 

        “There weren’t. There were four.” Peirce stepped aside, lending his uninformed friend a view of two more bodies lying face down in his back yard with no discernible cause of death. Rimbold sighed.

        “Bring them inside,” he said.

        “Gee, you’re welcome.”

        Rimbold ignored the prophet and used the Quicksilver to drag one of the bodies inside. Peirce followed his example, albeit with a bit more difficulty. They brought the dead griffons into the forge and put them in a pile with the two Rimbold had taken care of.

        “Well, what now?” Peirce asked.

        “You tell me, you’re the prophet.”

Peirce smiled his little smile at Rimbold, a smile that said, “I know more than you, and I know that I know more than you.” Rimbold hated that smile.

“I’ll tell you what next. We’re going to Equestria.”

“No, seriously, what next.”

“I am serious. I had a vision.” Rimbold quieted his objections. When Peirce used his gift on purpose, the results were always muddy and unclear, like about the assassination tonight, and they were always subject to change. Even the slightest difference from the path things were on now could have wildly unstable consequences. But when the seer’s gift used him, gave him a vision, rather than him demanding one from it, it was clearer. Rimbold sighed in defeat; no matter what he did, Peirce knew that he would end up coming with him. He always did.

“Why would I go with you to Equestria?” At least Rimbold could pretend like he was still thinking about it.

“Not ‘would.’ Will. You will go with me because the fate of a kingdom and possibly even the entire world depend on it. Also, you’ll live longer. If you stay here, the assassination attempts will only get more frequent, and you know you can’t hold out forever. Plus, it’ll be fun!”

“Right. Fun. Even if I agreed to go with you, which I haven’t, we can’t get to Equestria. The king’s afraid of dissenters; he won’t allow anyone, pony or griffon, to cross the border. Word is a war is on the way.”

“Wonder whose word that was. Oh yeah, mine.”

“Shut up. Can you tell me why these killers are after me?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Peirce!”

“Fine, I can try. But I expect an answer by the time I’m done. And I expect that answer to be ‘yes.’”

Peirce walked over to the pile of bodies. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again his pupils were massive, taking up almost his entire eye. He was using his Sight to examine the assassin’s last few hours. Rimbold lay down, idly passing the Quicksilver from claw to claw while Peirce did his thing. The prophet wasn’t as adept at this portion of his gift, especially when the subject was dead. After a few minutes, the seer returned to his friend with a solemn look and a shake of the head.

“Sorry Rimbold, the Bitch won’t help me tonight.” The Bitch was what Peirce called his gift when it wasn’t cooperating. Rimbold patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, my friend. So, why are we going to Equestria?”

“So you’ll come then?”

“You did say it would be fun?” 

“And dangerous,” Peirce said.

“One in the same, my friend. Of course I’ll come with you, but why are we going?”

“We have to see a unicorn. He is young, and his name is Brightly.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“What does he look like?”

“I don’t know.” Peirce was smiling. He knew his attitude irritated Rimbold.

“What do we tell him?”

“I don’t know.”

“How will we get there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

Rimbold sighed. “When do we leave?”

Peirce’s smile grew wider. “Now.”

“Help me take care of these bodies first.”

The two griffons took the dead assassins and shoved them one-by-one into the forge. Rimbold squeezed the bellows and soon the room was full of the smell of burning flesh.

Once they had finished their unpleasant business, the two friends walked out into the night. Rimbold stopped and looked back at the small building that had served as his home for the last decade, wondering if it was the last time he would ever see it.

“What is it?” Peirce asked.

“Nothing. Come on, we’ve got a unicorn to find.”


(*)


Bloodflow used his telekinesis to take the knife from the intruder’s saddlebags. It was bronze, with a curved blade that glinted in the ethereal light of the spell. The unicorn’s heart started to race.

This is it. I’m so close!

He held the dagger blade down over the helpless pegasus struggling on the pedestal in front of him. Then he looked at his two servants, chanting lyrics and pouring their power into the mare. It was a shame to waste such a beautiful pony, and even more so to sacrifice such loyal servants, but Bloodflow didn’t care. Soon, his ambition would pay off, and Equestria would be his.

He took a moment to admire the dagger. It was inlaid with runes that were now glowing in the presence of such powerful magic. Bloodflow hadn’t believed his luck when he had stumbled across the hapless banker with access to the artifact. Cornelius Bit had proved an invaluable, if unwilling, pawn. To think, all this time the last piece of the puzzle was sitting in a bank vault in such a backwater little town.

Bloodflow snapped his thoughts back to reality. He gripped the leather-bound handle of the dagger with his magic and forced it downward, easily breaking the flesh of his victim. Then, a blinding light exploded outward. Bloodflow didn’t turn away; the light was glorious. His mind was filled with delicious agony as the mare and his two servants broke apart, their essence’s breaking down into pure magic and rushing into his horn, like fine dust into a vacuum cleaner. He felt their power, their energy, their very life flowing into him, their thoughts, their feelings, their experiences, their memories, all becoming a part of who he was, but still separate from him. It was like each of the other beings were in cubicles, walled off from his own mind but still accessible. He felt his magic reserves growing exponentially as the two unicorn’s power merged with his own.

Then it was over. The searing, burning pain that Bloodflow had felt moments before retreated. He marveled at his new mind, how the other voices seemed to speak of their own volition. He could fell his own elation, mixed with the confusion and delight of his servants and the utter horror and incomprehension of the pegasus. He was leaning over the dais, breathing heavily. The dagger slipped from his magical grip and clattered to the ground, but it was miles away. He stood and took a deep breath, collecting himself before turning to face his final loose end.

Twilight Shimmer, the only pony left in the room besides the “cultist” (Bloodflow laughed at the term), was gazing at him with a delicious horror in her eyes. Bloodflow drank the horror like a fine wine, taking slow, deliberate steps toward his quarry. He opened his mouth to gloat, and then his world ripped apart.

His mind broke. The walls holding each of the other ponies in place evaporated, allowing memories and feelings and experiences that weren’t his to crash into his own mind. All that escaped his lips was an ear-piercing shriek as his mind turned to mush. He found himself on the ground, but couldn’t seem to remember how he got there. His body convulsed, muscles spasming at random as he fought for control. He could block out his servants, but the pegasus had remarkable conviction. She might’ve made a loyal helper. She was even beautiful…

Focus!

Bloodflow erected the walls between his minds once more, although now they were made of sand rather than stone. It would have to do. He pulled himself to his hooves and glared at Shimmer, murder in his eyes. She tried pathetically to get away, but the wine-red unicorn flung her back against the wall. He had barely used any power at all and had thrown her much harder than intended; He thought he heard some ribs crack. He marveled at his easy it was, like waving a fly away. He was about to finish her off when the walls in his mind came down again.

The assault on his mind by the pegasus caught him unawares. She was fighting him for control, and with his mind in shambles, she was winning. Bloodflow collapsed again, but he didn’t scream this time. The pegasus now had controlling stake in his mind, and she spoke through him, with his voice. It was sickening, the feeling of words leaving his mouth that weren’t his own.

“Go!” he said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold him much longer!”

And she was holding him. He couldn’t seem to force his muscles to move no matter how hard he tried. His quarry fled, and his plans fled with her. He wanted, needed to go after her, but he simply couldn’t with this mare controlling his mind. His convulsions grew more violent as he fought harder and harder. He tasted blood, having bitten his lip. He focused on the pain, used it to clear his mind, and pushed the mare back into her place. He put the walls back up, strengthening them as best he could manage.

He stood and exited the chamber, feeling exhausted despite the influx of energy his body had just received. He could feel the pegasus clawing at the walls, and it took all of his focus just to keep her contained. Just because she was contained didn’t mean he couldn’t hear her, though. She was shouting at him, a constant voice screaming in his head.

He stumbled out into the night air, the voice still clawing at his thoughts. Twilight Shimmer was gone, but it barely registered. Outside the cottage was the unconscious form of the pony who was supposed to guard the ritual. For some reason, thinking of this pony’s failure filled Bloodflow with a rage far beyond what he could comprehend. It filled his brain, roaring with such a fury that it drowned out even the pegasus. He snapped the pony’s neck and picked him up, smashing his head into the wall again and again and again until it was nothing but a bloody pulp. He didn’t use his magic. It was much more satisfying to use his hooves. When he was done, blood coating his forehooves, his anger cooled just as quickly as it had arrived. A relieved sigh escaped his lips when the voice didn’t return.

Sweet silence.

He couldn’t stay here; he needed a new plan. In a brilliant black flash, Bloodflow disappeared from the clearing, leaving only a hint of magic and a bloodied corpse behind.

Bloodflow hadn’t even meant to teleport. He was just thinking of his study, and then he disappeared. Teleporting was a strange feeling, like being held underwater while something dragged you down. He was calm, no fear of drowning, and halfway through the journey, he was no longer being pulled down, but up. Then, he surfaced, and he was at his destination. He gasped from the experience when he resurfaced.

Bloodflow’s personal study at Whitefall Manor was well furnished, lavish by even noblepony standards. The carpet was a thick, plush silk rug imported from Saddle Arabia, his desk was carved of white ash, a wood no longer found within the borders of Equestria. The chair sitting behind the desk was as soft as it was big, dwarfing anypony who sat in it, but it was high off the ground, which gave Bloodflow a menacing height when he was dealing with subordinates. There was a simple stone fireplace, which Bloodflow lit with a spark of magic. He marveled once again at how simple it was. Casting simple spells was now like breathing to him, as he need only will it to be done and it would be done.

Unfortunately, he would have to work on his teleportation. His arrival had rocked the building, knocking various knickknacks off the walls and throwing the room into disorder. Bloodflow hated disorder. With the faintest whisper of power, he put everything back in its place and cleared the blood from his hooves. He smiled. Much better.

Bloodflow collapsed into his chair and the bronze dagger clattered on his desk. He blinked at it. Had he brought it with him? He didn’t remember taking it from the ritual chamber. He picked it up, marveling at the artifact. He hadn’t gotten a chance to truly become acquainted with it yet. His eyes ran over the blade, drinking in every detail. The edge was thin, and razor sharp. It curved out from the handle in a gentle crescent moon shape, lending an exotic look. The handle was bound in simple leather. He squinted at the blade, whispering aloud the writing engraved on the side.

“Sprek’nan.” The name carried a weight to it. Bloodflow’s ancient Equish was rusty, but he knew from the legends what the name meant. Misery was the blade he held in his hands, the blade he had searched for so long to find. It had been quite the ordeal, but it was worth it to finally hold such unimaginable power in his hands.

Bloodflow’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to his study was opened abruptly. The blood-red unicorn’s manservant, Beckend Call, trotted in. He was a dark green earth pony with a sandy blonde mane going grey with age. When he caught sight of his master, he stopped dead.

“M-Master Bloodflow,” he stuttered. “I-um, I didn’t know you were home, sir. I simply came to check on a disturbance that I heard, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Bloodflow shifted his gaze lazily from Sprek’nan, from Misery, to Beckend. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to die, Beck?”

The question caught the earth pony off guard. “Sir?” Bloodflow repeated the question. “I try not to think that far ahead, sir.” Bloodflow chuckled.

“I suppose that is best. Don’t worry about me Beck, the disturbance you heard was merely an experiment. Dismissed.”

“Thank you sir,” Beck said with a bow, exiting the room just as quickly as politeness would allow. He had learned that with Master Bloodflow, it was best not to ask questions.

Bloodflow went back to examining the dagger, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a shrill scream. He started, nearly falling out of his chair, and looked around for the source. It had sounded so close! Then it happened again, and Bloodflow realized that it was in his head. The pegasus had started up again. Bloodflow tried to ignore her, instead walking to the window and looking out over Canterlot. The heart and lifeblood of Equestria, and it sickened him.

These ponies were blind. Blind to the hate, blind to the strife, blind to the suffering felt by millions of other creatures every single day of their lives. The princesses were just as bad, idealistic fools leading their subjects into an age of ignorance. There was no progress, there was no true happiness, and there was no conflict, at least not in the eyes of the public. Every iota of pain and misery was just swept under the rug and forgotten, but there was no more room under that rug. Bloodflow was proof of that. He would free these ponies from the fool princesses, from those infuriating “Slingers,” and from themselves. Under him, Equestria would prosper as it never had before, but before you can build, you must destroy.

Bloodflow would destroy Equestria, but how? Even with his immense power, he couldn’t stand up to the princesses and every unicorn they employed; it would simply be impossible. His gaze returned to the knife. It would be easy to absorb another pony. Now that the ritual had been performed once, all it would take was a simple stab. Then the pegasus screamed again. Bloodflow clenched his eyes shut and clamped his hooves over his ears, but nothing would stop the screaming.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

Bloodflow barely heard the door open, was hardly aware of his magic igniting. He only regained his senses when the maid who had come to check on him was a bloody pulp on the floor. Bloodflow could only smile. The screaming had stopped.

Focusing his thoughts once more, he turned to formulating a plan. It would take time, but time was one thing that he had on his side. He sat back down in his chair, lounging, relaxing in a way only a pony completely sure of himself could. He would wait, and when his time came, it would be glorious.