Ten years after the events of Dust to dust, Equestria has fallen into despair, as the coldest winter in living memory strikes the land. With the icy winds, an ancient evil awakens..
Ten years have passed since the fall of Queen Luna and her husband Dust, and Equestria has been forever changed thanks to the death of the rulers and the events that followed. There is no government, no laws. No morality. The concept of family and friends no longer exist, taking loyalty and love with it. The only thing that governs the land now is the icy winds and deep snow; the longest and coldest winter in living memory has struck the land, and is holding it in its tight grip. Famine and hate brews as the cities and towns fall one by one. The people have no hope left, and only care about surviving another day, no matter the cost.
Through unforeseen events, a group of Stalkers and unlikely friends are forced into the frozen lands of the once proud kingdom. A young Unicorn named Lilly dreams of becoming a Stalker herself, but her desire to do good may bring her more terror than she ever thought possible...
In this new world, a world of swift, cold death, a new threat rises out of the ashes of the Lunar Republic. An ancient evil has awoken, unknown yet all too familiar. With it, it brings one simple question.
A steady flow of metallic screeching filled the room. Behind it, a quiet hint of the sound of ruffling cloth could be heard, but only to the ones that actually listened closely. Or the ones that had no choice not to. It wasn’t all that loud, more like a gentle whisper, like the cool breeze on a spring morning, as the sunrays hit the grass and leaves of the forest, creating a beautiful silver coat out of the morning dew. A sound you might call invisible.
Yet it echoed loudly across the small room, and it echoed inside the head of the unicorn in bed, threatening to burst her eardrums from the inside. She tossed and turned back and forth in an attempt to drown out the sounds from the neighboring room by creating her own. Pressed the pillow over her own face in hopes of perhaps smothering herself into sleep. Nothing helped. Instead, the sound seemed to grow in strength.
“Oh, for the love of..!”
Lilly spun around in bed and sat up straight. Filled with both anger and embarrassment, she banged her hoof hard against the wall. It made a new metallic sound, rustling as the force of the impacts ebbed out across the thin metal walls around her.
“Will you guys keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep!”
She stared at the wall with eyes that would have killed the couple on the other side if they could see them. Of course, if somepony did see them in doing what they did, they would probably die anyway out of shame, or at the very least try to disappear down through the floor. She wouldn’t be surprised if they just continued their routine on the floor instead.
After waiting for a few seconds, she relaxed a bit as the sound didn’t come back. She sighed contently and laid her head back down on the pillow. Now the only sound she heard was the usual whine of the strong winds outside of the small building. Even though the wind was the main thing to fear, it still began to lull her into sleep, and eventually her snoozing filled the room instead.
A forest grew up around her, birch trees sprouted up towards the sky with leaves green as emeralds. The grass around her hooves swayed lightly in the breeze, creating the image of waves across a vast green ocean. The breeze gently stroked her chin, and Lilly closed her eyes and smiled. As she opened them again, the sun was high in the sky, spreading its rays through the leaves above her.
But then, the illusion gave way. The trees bent down upon themselves and the grass around her caught fire as several screeches filled the air. She was pulled forcefully out of her dream as the sound from her neighbors woke her up once again. This time the pace was faster and the sound louder. Lilly could have sworn she heard panting behind the wall.
In frustration she shouted blindly into the air. “Ah, fuck it!” She instantly regretted it though, as her words seemed to only cause the sound to grow even stronger. Disgust rose inside her as she realized the couple probably enjoyed that she could hear them. A kink that turned them on even more. She couldn’t stand the thought.
“Seriously, this is just... Agh!” Once again she slammed her hoof against the wall. “The world is bad enough as it is without you two humping your way through the fucking floor!” After no more than a few seconds, an answer came from the other side of the wall. A long, loud moan reached her ears, and as they did she exhaled in anger and threw the blankets off of her. Instantly, the cold hit her.
Smoke rose from her mouth as she exhaled, and she was already shaking. In bed, she was covered up and warm thanks to several layers of blankets and thick furs, but now nothing except the thin walls shielded her against the cold, and she began coughing. It was so cold, the air that she inhaled made her throat not only itch but also clamp up, refusing to take in any more.
Her magic coursed through her body, and for a moment it warmed her slightly, before she directed it towards her closet and swung the door open. As the magic slowly faded out of her horn, so did the sensation of warmth. As Lilly draped an old cloak over her shoulder, she wished her magic was stronger, maybe then it could warm her up even more.
At least the cloaked warmed her a bit, old and tattered as it were. Once, it’d belonged to her mother, and at the time had been a bright red color, looking somewhat regal. Now, the color had faded into a more brown shade, and several holes and tears dotted the fabric. Around the hemline and around the hood, thick fur had been sewn on to probably enhance the image of nobility. Now it only served as extra protection against the elements.
Lilly didn’t bother about pulling the hood over her head, and instead just wrapped her scarf around her neck and mouth. Although it was more a rag than a scarf; multiple uneven pieces of black cloth had been sown together to create it, but at least it served its purpose.
The mare turned to the door, and now the sounds from next door had become even louder. She tried to ignore the moans, but to no use. They were really going at it tonight, and she had no desire to stay here, had no desire to hear them all the way through until the end.
With her jaws clamped tightly together due to both the cold and anger, she grabbed her old Stetson of a hook close to the door and placed it on her head, adjusting it a bit so her horn would be free. Then, she opened the door and stepped out into the freezing night. She heard a loud scream from her neighbors as she closed the door behind her.
Instantly, the wind grabbed her and almost pushed her off her hooves. She put a hoof up to her head to prevent the hat from flying off. A small breeze snuck in through the narrow hole on its side, nestling its way through her mane and chilling her to the bone.
Still with her hoof pressed firmly on the hat, Lilly hurried away from the house and against the only other place where she might find somepony to talk to. On her way through the small settlement, she saw no signs of life from the other residents. Doors and windows where shut, lights where out. The hoof prints that had covered the veil of snow earlier had long since disappeared, and all that was left was a perfect white sheet on the ground.
In it, several jagged lines ran across it, a result of the strong winds. Jagged waves or squiggly lines, like the drawings of a filly. Not that fillies drew anything anymore, though.
She passed the biggest building in the area, a strange construction made from big containers chained together into a big square. On top of it, several carriages and wagons had been placed, serving as both decoration and makeshift rooms. It really wasn’t that elegant, but it was all they had.
Beyond this building that served as the settlements inn, beyond several more houses and a fence made out of rusted barbwire, she saw her destination: The wall. It had been built from tree trunks they’ve managed to salvage before the snow buried the forests up north. Several layers of debris helped to keep the wall even sturdier; everything from cloth to stones, sandbags, furniture and barbwire, most of it covered in either a thin layer of snow or ice.
The wall itself had been built between two cliffs, where a path entered the valley they’ve made into their home. The mountain ridges on all sides except the one with the wall offered them both natural protection and disguised them from the outside world, and the wall could fend off any hostile visitors.
As she came closer to the wall, Lilly could see the silhouette of a pony on top of it, probably keeping watch for any threats. She kicked up her pace and trotted on through the snow towards the stairs leading up to where the other pony was standing. When she reached the top, a familiar voice greeted her.
“Fancy seeing you at this hour, missy Lilith Eclipse.”
The voice had a thick accent that she had no idea where it originated from, despite the fact that she knew this stallion very well.
“Evening, William Duskshine.” Lilly responded as she trotted up to the stallion.
When he spoke, he pronounced the letter I in a very distinct tone, a little high pitch than others. Not only that, he also had a thick rolling pronouncement of R, and a sharp D. Lilly had always liked to listen to him speak, simply because his accents seems so strange to her.
“Great.. That’s just brilliant.” Lilly said with a yawn as she placed herself next to Duskshine and looked out on the open expanse on the other side of the wall. “Anything interesting happening here?”
“Nah, just the usual. Bleakers and Wraiths trying to tear each other’s balls off.”
“I’m guessing the Wraiths won?”
Duskshine nodded. “To tell you the truth, Lilly… I really don’t like to watch the Wraiths and their… methods.”
“I think they sound pretty awesome.” Lilly answered with a shy smile. For a moment, she sounded like the young teenager she actually was, and her grown-up façade pulled away for just a split second. “I hope I’ll get to see them kick some Bleaker flank someday.”
Duskshine looked at her with a frown, and spoke with a tone of disappointment. “Believe me, missy; there’s nothing awesome about what they do. It’s... revolting, really.” He went silent for a few seconds, before he continued. “The neighbors again?”
“Yeah. They’ve been at it for hours... what time is it anyway, like two or three in the morning?”
“Actually...” Duskshine said slowly and turned his face away from her. “It’s closer to six.”
Lilly sighed dramatically and slouched her shoulders. “That would mean they’ve been fucking all night...”
“Seems that way, missy. Maybe you should go back to them and pour a bucket of cold water over them.” A chuckle escaped the stallion’s lips.
“Well… seeing how much they seemed to enjoy the fact that I could hear them, something like that might just drive them both completely crazy, and then I’ll never get any sleep.”
They both laughed at her words, but went silent shortly thereafter. Together they kept watch over the only entrance to the settlement for quite some time, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. After a while, Lilly began to move about a bit as the cold numbed her legs.
“You know, Lilly...” Duskshine spoke up after the long silence. “You might look at their noise differently if you tried it yourself…”
“You’re never gonna stop trying, are you, Will?” Lilly said with a smile. "You Neighrish bastard."
“Nope, missy.” The stallion answered. “Can’t help it. Between you and me, you’re probably the most attractive mare around here.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.” Lilly interrupted him mid-sentence. “Or anypony else.”
“You’re missing out.” Duskshine responded with a smile.
“I doubt it.”
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Lilly didn’t say anything in response, just smiled at him. Suddenly, a strong current of wind blew across their heads, and before she had time to react it yanked the Stetson off of her head and sent it flying off beyond the wall. Without hesitation and to Duskshine’s surprise, the young unicorn launched herself off from the wall and into the snow on the outside. The stallion yelled at her to come back, but she didn’t listen to him.
The hat was still moving in the wind, and she tried to stop it with her magic, but it was too weak. She had no choice than to chase after it and try to grab ahold of it somehow. Behind her, she could hear the worried voice of Duskshine coming closer. The hat flew off into the ravine and she gave chase to it, getting further and further away from the wall.
“Lilith, wait!”
Duskshine appeared next to her, panting and wheezing as his old body tried to keep up with her younger muscles. She didn’t look at him; her attention was fixed on the hat. She was faster than the stallion, and soon he couldn’t keep up with her. She was so close now; she could practically reach out and grab the brim in her teeth.
“Stop, look out!”
Lilly stopped instantly and spun around as she heard Duskshine’s frightened voice behind her. He was getting closer to her, with a look of sheer terror on his face. “Get away from there!” He yelled out to her.
She didn’t have time to turn around or react.
She felt something wrap itself around her, something feeling so cold her entire body threatened to shut itself down. As it lifted her into the air a scream forced its way out of her mouth, and then she was flying face first through the air. A split second later she collided with a cliff wall, and she yelped in pain when she landed in the snow with a soft thud.
She could hear Duskshine crying out her name, but it was hard to make out anything else over the high pitch ringing sound that echoed in her head.
“Lilly, run!”
She opened her eyes. In front of her, as if through a miracle, the hat had landed safely in the snow. Quickly she bit down on the brim and tried to stand up. The stallion once again shouted for her to run, and she did. Faster than she’d ever moved before, her legs carried her back towards the wall. Behind her, she could hear strange wheezing sounds and screams coming from Duskshine.
Suddenly, the screaming stopped. But she was too afraid to turn back and look, and she kept on running. The wind hit her face hard and snow gathered over her mane. And then finally, the terrified young mare took a leap up on the wall. And missed. She slammed hard into the wall, her front legs and chest hitting it, and a sharp pain welled up in her. She tried to clamber her way up, but her hooves slipped and she tumbled down into the snow. The last bit of air remaining in her lungs got pushed out of her mouth, and she dropped the hat in the process. Adrenalin rushed through her tiny body as she got hold of the hat and launched herself unto the wall again. Tears welled up in her eyes as she kicked with her hind legs to get up but couldn’t get a grip on the wall.
Then, her heart stopped and her lungs seemed to collapse as something grabbed hold of her. She tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. Whatever it was beneath her would pull her down any second, and then she would die.
The grip on her hooves tightened, and before she could realize what was going on, she was heaved up and over the wall. She flipped around the top clumsily, her head hitting the floor boards and her flank slammed into a small chair, shattering it instantly. For a moment, the world around her seemed to stop completely. Everything became silent, and time ceased to exist.
The boards beneath her trembled as another body landed heavily next to her, followed by erratic breathing and the creaking of the boards.
“Are... are you okay..?” Duskshine’s voice reached her ears.
“I... I think so...” She panted in response.
In an instant, Duskshine got back up on his hooves. Lilly was still on her back, trying to catch her breath. She looked up into the grey sky as the snow painted her vision and body in white specks. A few strands of orange hair entered her vision from the left, followed by Duskshine’s face. His orange mane blew sharply in the wind, giving even more effect to his angry and worried face.
“.. What the hell are you thinking, girl?!” He spouted down at her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Over a fucking hat?!”
“It’s... it’s not just a... fucking hat...” Her voice was still unsteady and she had trouble breathing.
“What is it then, a pet? An invaluable family heirloom? A fucking sister!?”
“No, it’s.. It’s important to me, I..”
Duskshine didn’t answer, he just looked down at her with anger in his eyes. Slowly, the anger subsided and got replaced by worry.
“I’m sorry... I... I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He said in a quiet voice. He extended a hoof to her. “Come on, let’s get you back on your hooves, missy.”
Lilly mumbled a thank you as he helped her up, and avoided eye contact with him. Instead, she focused on the floor as shame consumed her.
“Tell you what, Lilly..” Duskshine said to her. “Go back home and get some rest. We’ll talk about this in the morning… perhaps you can tell me why that hat is so important?” He nodded at the Stetson on her head.
Lilly nodded back at him and wiped the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “Are... are you going to tell the Elders about this..?” She whispered.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” The stallion repeated. “Don’t worry though missy, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She lowered her head in shame again, and without answering she made her way down the stairs. Halfway down, she stopped. “.. Thank you, Will. I’m sorry..”
She didn’t wait for his answer, and kept on walking, slowly making her way home. As she passed by the inn once again, she felt the sudden urge to just slam open the doors and drown herself in alcohol. Maybe that would help her overcome the shame of almost getting both herself and Duskshine killed.
She was hoping that by now, her neighbors would be done with their noisy lovemaking, and perhaps she would be able to get some sleep. As she closed the door to her room behind her, she instantly sighed in disappointment.
A forest grew up around her, birch trees sprouted up towards the sky with leaves green as emeralds. The grass around her hooves swayed lightly in the breeze, creating the image of waves across a vast green ocean. The breeze gently stroked her chin, and Lilly closed her eyes and smiled. As she opened them again, the sun was high in the sky, spreading its rays through the leaves above her.
Lilly sighed contently at the sight, and took a deep breath. Her nostrils got filled with the smell of the forest around her. The smell of fresh sap from the trees, the smell of grass beneath her hooves. And above all else, that special undetermined smell of sun and summer. The thick smell that always accompanies the warmth of the summer months. Sometimes so strong it burns your throat, the same way it freezes in the winter.
Like you’re quite literally breathing the rays of the sun, feeling it fill your lungs and sending surges of happiness throughout your veins.
And as Lilly observed the beautiful nature around her, with the ever-growing chirping of birds in the distance, that feel of radiant happiness slowly grew into an almost orgasmic blissfulness that coated her mind like waves washing over a perfect shore, caressing the part of her one might refer to as soul. She allowed her mind to bask in this harmonic heaven of green, and her body sank down into the grass beneath her, the many straws stroking against her soft, blue fur.
With another deep sigh she leaned on her side and rolled around on her back. The soft grass tickled her back and a few seeds flew up into the air above her as her tail and mane brushed by a few dandelions dotting the green ground. A strand of white hair entered her vision and covered her left eye. Not wanting to move, she tried to blow it out of her eye with her breath, and after a few attempts her mane disappeared from her sight.
Lilly…
The rays of the sun faded slowly as a black object floated in from nowhere and covered it. Eventually, nothing but a black spot with a golden rim around it remained. Just looking at it made her feel intoxicated.
Lilly…
The dreamscape around her disappeared as she awoke from her sleep. Just like last night, she’d been awoken by loud banging on the walls. Once again she raised herself up into a sitting position and was about to hit the wall with her hoof yet again to signal the neighbors to shut up, when the knocking came back. Followed by a voice.
“Lilly! You awake?”
Duskshine.
“.. Just a minute..!” Lilly called back to him and hurried to get out of bed. At least if slower than a dead ferret could be considered hurrying. She just wanted to sleep and don’t care about anypony else. He could knock on the door for as long as he liked.
“Come on, lass!” Duskshine raised his voice some more. “There’s somepony here I want you to meet.”
“.. Why? And who?” Lilly asked as she finally slouched herself out of bed, almost falling limp on the floor as she did. In a daze she walked across the room to get her cloak.
“They came this morning.” Duskshine answered from beyond the door. “The Stalkers.”
Lilly gasped and stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the final word. Stalkers. Her mind started to spin. Just a few seconds later she swung the door open so fast it almost pushed the stallion on the other side down into the snow.
“Sorry...” She said shyly as she helped him up. Her cloak was put on clumsily and not properly tied, and her scarf had just been tossed around her neck and hung limply down, moving slightly in the cold wind. “So.. Where are they?” She asked as she carefully adjusted the Stetson on her head.
“At the inn.” Duskshine responded quickly. “Exchanging stories from their travels and stuffing themselves with Iceoma.”
“Let’s go then!” Lilly exclaimed in joy, almost bouncing slightly as she walked past the stallion.
“Hold on, don’t forget your diapers.” He said after her with a smirk.
She stopped and turned her head to him, rolling her eyes. “What..?” She asked annoyed.
“You’re acting like a child.” Duskshine said back to her. “Just calm down before we go.”
Lilly rolled her eyes yet again, but did as he said and tried to relax. After a few moments, Duskshine walked up to her with a smile. He didn’t wait for her and she followed him without a word as they walked through the small town.
The few buildings scattered across the valley had all been built from scraps scavenged from bigger towns and settlements. Metal, boards, containers, glass, benches and tables; anything that could be used. As they approached the inn, they could see a couple of fillies sneaking around the doorway, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of the newly arrived heroes inside.
They tried to act innocent once they noticed Lilly and Duskshine. “What are doing, boys?” He asked them in a friendly voice. “Spying on the Stalkers?”
Above their heads a rusty old sign swayed in the breeze. It was merely a big piece of bark, with the words “Ashcraft Inn” Carved into it. It hang from a metal rod that had been welded in place it the top of the contained that made out the entrance, and at the edge of the rod a few wind chimes hung, made out of rusty horseshoes and a few empty cans.
The sound they made wasn’t exactly beautiful or calming.
“We... We just wanted to see them, sir... Hear their stories...” One of the children said, head lowering somewhat as he did.
“Sorry, but Stalker’s stories aren’t for young foals. Run along and play somewhere else instead.”
The children nodded slowly in unison. Lilly felt a small prick of pain in her heart as she observed them. Their hopes had just been crushed. “Hey..” She said to them, trying to muster up a somewhat warm smile. “Don’t be sad, boys. Who knows, maybe you’ll earn your cutie marks today! Wouldn’t that be better than listening to old boring stallions talking about boring stuff?”
The children looked at her, perplexed. When one of them answered, Lilly stood surprised at his words. “Um... What’s a cutie mark…?”
Before she managed to figure out what to say, Duskshine pulled her with him through the doorway. “Age of the blank flanks, eh?” He whispered to her. The room they found themselves in was crowded, and filled with whispering voices. A quite ruckus. Maybe out of respect for the Stalkers.
“Before we go inside..” Duskshine continued whispering. “How much do you know about them?”
“I know they’re kick-ass.” Lilly responded. “They kill off threats to settlements and protect travelers and scavenge for anything useful.”
Duskshine nodded slowly. “Right, but you don’t know anything about them. Listen...” He pulled her off to a quiet corner of the room. “Take your average low-life; bandits, thieves, rapists, murderers, Bleakers, Wraiths and anything similar you can come up with. Combine all these and you get a bat-shit-crazy killing machine driven by nothing but pure feral instinct, killing, raping and eating everything it comes across. It knows no fear, no remorse or pain. Then you have Stalkers. They’re the kind of ponies that would make this bloodthirsty killing machine piss itself out of fear.”
Lilly remained quiet, feeling unease build up inside her the more he said. Suddenly she didn’t feel as eager to meet the Stalkers.
“They’re mean fuckers, so watch your words, alright missy?”
She nodded in response. Without saying anything else, Duskshine walked past her, nodding as he did to signal her to follow him, and she did, but her legs has started to tremble slightly. She knew that Stalkers where strong fighters, but this... She was afraid.
They walked further into the crowded room and placed themselves at the bar. It was probably the only piece of furniture in all of Ashcraft that wasn’t made out of junk. It had been hewn out perfectly from an old oak, with the bark on the sides still left intact to create a more stylized image. The top had been smoothened down into a perfect sheet of shiny wood, now adorned with dried up rings from old glasses and drinks. On each side a small pillar shot out from the board and connected it to the ceiling above.
As Duskshine ordered a couple glasses of Iceoma, Lilly took the opportunity to look around the room. It was rather big, consisting of four containers stacked next to each other and cut in half, resulting in a massive open space to fill up with tables and drunken ponies. And of course it was full with ponies, though how many where drunk she couldn’t tell.
To conserve what little warmth they had, the inn didn’t have any windows and instead relied only on lit candles and oil lamps. A few candles had been placed on just about every table, and the lamps hung in ropes from the ceiling, casting shadows on the floor in a strange way. Behind the bar there were several long shelves, filled with different bottles and glasses. Most of them contained Iceoma; the alcoholic liquid distilled from magic ice. How it was done she had no idea, but seeing as ice covered most of Equestria now, they would at least have an unlimited supply of this drink.
She nodded a thanks to the bartender as he handed over her glass to her. The drink itself looked like liquid, floating ice with small stars sparkling inside it. Like flakes of snow drifting around a shiny sea of ice. Oftentimes Lilly found herself just peering into the drink instead of actually drinking it, thinking how beautiful it looked.
Once she looked up from the drink, she noticed that Duskshine had moved away from the bar and was approaching a table in the farthest corner of the room, one with only one lit candle and several of the ponies around it partially covered in shadows. As if he sensed she was watching her, he turned his head around and looked her in the eyes, giving her a quick nod to follow him.
She quickly swallowed down the drink and headed down across the room. As she came closer, her legs started to tremble. Those ponies around the table, they had to be Stalkers. No doubt about it.
“… and apparently they have taken shelter in the tower, and…” The conversation around the table faded as Lilly came close enough and placed herself next to Duskshine. They all stared at her, everypony with a different expression.
The first one she saw was a beige stallion with dark red mane. Nasty scars adorned his neck and face, and one of his eyes seemed a bit clearer than the other. A pair of thick goggles had been pushed up unto his forehead, and an olive scarf hung loosely around the lower part of his neck. A couple of saddlebags had been strapped across his back, and on the lower end of it, something that looked like a cloak hung, covering his flank and hind legs.
Next to him stood another stallion, this one bigger and with more muscles. For some reason, he didn’t have a mane, and nothing but his grey fur covered his head. Lilly felt a bit queasy as she saw that he only had one ear; the other had somehow been ripped right off. He wielded a massive sword, strapped to his back with thick leather strings. She didn’t have time to look closely at the others before Duskshine spoke up.
“Gentlemen.” He began. “This is Lilith, a young mare eager to learn about Stalkers. I was hoping you could help her with this...”
When he stopped talking, the stallion without mane looked at her with sly eyes. Lilly didn’t like the look he gave her, feeling as if he looked too deep into her mind.
“A unicorn mare, huh?” His voice was broken and growling, reminding Lilly of the time a fire broke out in one of the houses close by. The ponies that inhaled the smoke had sounded just like him. “I haven’t fucked a unicorn since the Great Fade...” Lilly’s heart stopped at his words.
“Shut up, Sawblade.” The beige stallion quickly said. He looked at Lilly. “Sorry, he’s…” He looked back at Sawblade. “.. Well, he’s an asshole.”
“Fuck you, Crescent.” Sawblade responded.
“Love you too, buddy. Now... Miss… Lilith, was it? Why don’t you join us, we were just discussing some news from Appleloosa.”
Lilly gave Duskshine a worried look. “It’s fine, missy.” He said reassuring to her. “I’ll be over by the bar if you need anything. Good luck.” He whispered the last two words.
As he turned to leave, Lilly quickly stopped him. She wasn’t sure about this, and Sawblade terrified her. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again as she realized she didn’t want to look like a coward in front of the Stalkers. “I, um...” She began. “... That joke earlier was lousy.”
“Don’t worry, Lilly, you’ll be fine.” Duskshine answered. He probably sensed her worry.
Lilly nodded slowly after a few seconds. “… Okay.” She turned back to the Stalkers. “You… you said something about Appleloosa?” She tried her best not to stutter, but she still did. She glanced over at Sawblade, still uneasy.
“Yes...” Crescent responded slowly. “You ever been there?”
“I grew up there.” Lilly answered quietly.
Crescent’s eyebrows raised in wonder. “You don’t sound Appleloosan.” He pointed out.
“Ah’ know.” Lilly responded in her regular accent. “Ah’ rarely speak this way, Ah’ try to hide it.”
“Why would you hide your roots like that?” Sawblade suddenly asked. “Are you ashamed?”
Lilly hesitated for a while. “No, I… I just don’t want to think about Appleloosa. I prefer this accent over it as well; I’ve been using it so long it actually feels more natural than the southern accent.”
“I guess that explains that as well.” Crescent added with a nod towards her Stetson. When Lilly didn’t answer his remark, he continued on the previous subject. “Anyway… Appleloosa. We haven’t been down there for almost a year now, and I don’t know if these rumors are true.”
“It is true, just ask that guy over there.” Sawblade objected, pointing a hoof across the room. Lilly turned to look at where he was pointing, but saw nopony out of the ordinary.
“Yeah, whatever. They say that the entire town has been completely covered in snow. I mean completely, all buried except the church tower. Can you imagine it, all that snow down there, the driest damn place in all of Equestria? Apparently the few ponies there use it as shelter. The tower itself serves as entrance into the church which has now transformed into a fully-fledged bunker, deep under the snow. If it’s true... It’s both sad an impressive, I say.”
Lilly listened to what he said, but she didn’t hear him. “… Who did you point to? I don’t see anypony special...” For some reason, finding this pony seemed more important to her than listening to the news from her hometown.
As an answer to her question, a few notes of music streamed across the room.
At the same time, a few ponies moved across the room and revealed a strange-looking pony at the other side of the room. And he was playing a guitar.
“That guy.” Sawblade said. “Say, unicorn, have you ever heard of Magisur-”
Lilly didn’t hear the rest of his question. She had already moved away from the table towards the stallion, her eyes fixed on him like in a trance. The song that came from the guitar he held almost lulled her into sleep as she came closer to him.
She came to a stop just a few feet away from him, unable to speak. As the last chords on the guitar faded out, the stallion looked up at her.
“How did you..?” She whispered, feeling as if all the air in her lungs had disappeared. The stallion before her smiled a bit and removed his hoof from the throat of the guitar, held it up towards her. It took Lilly a few seconds to understand what she was looking at, and once she did, her chest started to ache.
Several indentations adorned the edge of the hoof, separated by no more than a few millimeters. The stallion lowered his hoof once again. “I’ve filed down small lines.” He said. “That way I can hit the notes I want to almost perfectly.”
“.. Did it hurt..?” Lilly whispered in response. While she asked him, she also looked over his body; she’d never seen such a strange combination in colors. His coat was a dark red color, almost like blood. And the mane…
“A bit.” The stallion answered. “But it was worth it.” Lilly didn’t answer; her eyes had stuck to the colors of his mane. The stallion noticed this and chuckled a bit. “I know I look odd.” He said. “I guess rainbow-manes are kinda rare these days...”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t stare like this, I...” She tried to apologize and averted her eyes from his mane.
“I’m used to it.” The stallion responded with a smile. “You’re from the south, aren’t you?”
Lilly raised her eyebrows at his question. “How do you figure?”
“I recognize the accent behind your voice.” The red stallion answered, putting the guitar down next to him. Again, Lilly raised her eyebrows. After a few seconds, another smile cracked the stallions face. “Fine, I heard you saying it to those guys over there.”
“Is it true what they said?” She asked quickly. “Is Appleloosa gone?”
The red stallion sighed at her question. “Yeah, afraid it is. Nothing left except the tower, like they said. I’ve seen it myself.”
The small amount of hope Lilly had left inside of her shattered. She turned away her head as tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know me; you don’t need to be sorry.” Lilly replied through her tears. “But thanks for telling me anyway...” She turned her hooves around. “I should go, I…”
“Wait, before you go…” The stallion muttered. “That hat… Where did you get it?”
“None of your business.” Lilly said sharply.
“I think it is. See, I recognize the way it smells...”
Lilly turned her head and looked straight into the stallions eyes. They too had a strange color, and she couldn’t decide if they were green with a hint of light purple, or the other way around. “… You knew her too?” She asked, still with tears in her eyes.
The voice belonging to the stallion with the rainbow mane reached Lilly’s ears through the howling wind as she quickly trotted through Ashcraft towards her destination. Despite it being midday the settlement was almost empty, as usual. Most of the ponies living here were either working or out hunting, and the few children they had didn’t do much at all. Loitered might be a good word for it. They just didn’t care about anything anymore.
She didn’t answer the stallion’s call and didn’t slow down her pace. The sound of snow being pressed down grew as he trotted up next to her without saying a word. Lilly ignored him as much as she could, but finally she couldn’t do it anymore and against her own judgment she turned her head to look at him. Those oddly colored eyes met hers, and for a split second she felt as if something about him was... Familiar.
“Mind telling me your name?” The stallion asked.
“Lilith.” She replied. “But most ponies call me Lilly.” She just wanted him to leave her alone as quickly as possible, and thought that he would if she just answered his questions.
“I’m Willow.” He said back to her. “Quite fitting, I’d say.”
Lilly was about to ask him why, but got her answer the moment she looked closer at him, noticing a few things about his body that she’d missed at the inn. She just now realized he wasn’t a regular earth pony; he was in fact a Pegasus. But his wings didn’t look like any other she’d seen; they were crooked and bent in ways that almost made her cringe as she imagined the pain they most likely caused him.
Willow noticed the looks she gave him, and cleared his throat before speaking up again. “Deformed at birth. Least, that’s what my father said. I’ll never be able to fly, it seems.”
Lilly hesitated a few seconds. “My… my horn…” She spoke slowly, thinking carefully about each new word she uttered. “It doesn’t… work. Not that I was born that way, but…”
“I know what you’re talking about.” Willow replied calmly. “The Great Fade?”
Lilly nodded. “I was lucky, I guess…”
The Great Fade. A time of despair and death for all of Equestria. Following the death of their rulers, the equine of the land was thrown into a civil war of chaos, in which the unicorns got blamed for the fall of the Lunar Republic.
Claims were made that it was their magic that caused Luna and Dust to pass so abruptly, their recklessness. Magic was used in ever thing, every simple act was carried out by it, and it made them lazy and disrespectful towards it. They abused their natural power, and for this the entire world was punished.
“What they did was a terrible thing.” Willow whispered. “Some say the Fade was our world’s darkest moment, far beyond everything else. Nightmare Moon, Discord, the Changelings, the war... nothing compared to it.”
Unicorns had been hunted down and slain like dogs, nopony ever giving a single thought about their life’s and families. They gave themselves the right to torment and kill every living creature born with a magic horn, and anypony trying to protect them.
“Because there wasn’t a ‘real’ enemy?” Lilly asked him.
They gave themselves the right to be gods, with complete power over life and death, and soon these imaginary and arrogant powers could sustain themselves no longer. On a cold autumn morning as specks of snow had begun to color the land in white, thousands upon thousands marched upon Canterlot and the high-end society.
What followed was a bloodbath that lasted for weeks. The bodies of Unicorns, Pegasi and earth ponies littered the streets of the once glistening white city, dried and fresh blood covering its beautiful buildings, sprayed across broken windows and shattered doors. All kinds of furniture had been thrown out of ponies homes, only to be reduced to ashes by the trampling masses.
Public executions of whole families where carried out, accompanied by the wailing cries of their loved ones. There was nothing else to do, anypony trying to help the unicorns was cut down immediately and left to rot.
Stallions, mares, foals; no discrimination could be found. They all perished under the mighty blades of the uprising that eventually came to call themselves “The true believers”.
“Yup. I’ll never understand how any living being can be driven into such madness. To almost drive the unicorns into extinction, and then hide behind their ‘patriotism’… I’ll tell you, the things I saw them do… there was nothing patriotic there, just hate and anger.”
After months of senseless bloodshed and unspeakable acts of violence, the believers had taken complete control of Canterlot. The ones opposing them either died or fled the city, while some chose to join their ranks in what they believed to be a glorious rebellion, destined to rid Equestria of Unicorns once and for all, and in doing so they would atone for their sins and the curse on their land would finally be lifted.
They marched on the castle, killing everything in their path. The court and what was left of the royal family put up strong resistance, refusing to bow down and surrender their castle. But not even them could hold out against the tide of death for long, and the royal bloodline broke as every member of the family was slain without remorse.
Their heads where placed upon spikes outside the castle gates, and the blood from their severed necks colored the otherwise white marble stairs in a river of purest crimson.
Prince Blueblood, elected as new temporary ruler of Equestria until an heir could be produced, was placed at the front of these rows, his entire body mutilated and torn apart, strung up on poles for all the world to see.
To further enhance their message, the believers removed the prince’s genitalia and nailed it stuck to the castle gate.
But despite this, despite his body being broken into pieces; no blue blood could be found within his veins.
Lilly and Willow walked on in silence through the snow. Lilly really didn’t want to talk about the Fade; it brought back memories too painful for her to handle, and she found herself crying once again. She didn’t know whether or not Willow saw it, and it didn’t matter; the air was so cold her tears froze before they left her cheeks. She tried to focus on something else, and looked around her for anything that could take her mind of... certain events.
Nothing interesting caught her eye, and she instead focused on looking straight ahead and nowhere else. Hopefully, they would reach the place she was headed to, and she really didn’t care if he found out about it or not.
“How did you survive?” Willow’s voice broke the silence between them. “If you don’t mind me asking...”
Again, the memories came back to her, slicing into her like a knife. She couldn’t stand it, and without realizing what she said, she let it all out. “I once saw a group of stallion’s gang up on a unicorn. They broke her horn and raped her with it. And laughed at her pain and humiliation. Another stallion tried to stop them, tried to help her. They killed him. Beat him up until he wasn’t moving anymore, and then they continued with the mare. They finally ended her suffering by strangling her.”
Willow’s face had gone pale as he listened. “Why are you telling me this…?” He asked.
“I was hiding inside a small shed close by, together with…” She went silent for a few seconds, and then she continued. “When they were done and about to leave, one of them took a piss on the body of the stallion. I didn’t come out of hiding until almost an hour later.”
“Who were they?” Willow wondered.
“My parents.” Lilly said bluntly.
“I’m sorry, I…” Willow began, but Lilly interrupted him.
“It’s fine.” She said. “It happened a long time ago, and there’s no way of changing what happened. That’s just the way life is like now, right?”
“I guess…” The stallion responded. “Equestria is a bleak place nowadays.”
“Bleak and broken.”
They passed her own shabby little shed. It wasn’t much to look at, just a pile of metal like all the other buildings, but at least it was a place to call home. Round the back of it and past the house of her neighbors, she saw the place she was headed for. A small opening in the mountain wall surrounding the settlement, protruding outwards like a circle with a doorway in the middle. Ice has formed around it, almost creating the image of a giant maw with razor sharp teeth.
Lilly stepped right through the cold teeth, and found herself in what she herself saw as the only sanctuary left in Equestria. Behind her Willow stepped inside as well, coming to a stop next to her. He observed the scene in front of them in silence, as Lilly removed the Stetson off of the top of her head. Opposite of them, lined with the mountain wall, several spikes of ice has been molded into strange shapes, some of them even bent into curves.
Ranging from straight spikes at both ends, the shape of them shifted towards the middle where a few of them had been bent around in such a manner that they formed a partial vortex around a small pillar of stone. Lilly stepped forward without paying any attention to Willow whom stood perplexed at the sight before him. She placed the Stetson down on the small pillar, and it fit perfectly on top of it, like it had been molded for that single purpose.
“Did you do all of this?” Willow whispered behind her back as she sat down on her haunches in the cold snow and lowered her head with closed eyes.
She nodded slowly. “My magic may be weak, but not too weak for something like this. Besides, this is the least I can do for her…”
“You really cared for her.” Willow stated, probably more to himself than to Lilly. After a few moments of silence, she felt him sit himself down on her right side. “What happened to her?” He whispered.
“… Why should I tell you?” Lilly answered. “I don’t even know you.” But she already knew the answer to her question, it was obvious why she should tell him. Even though he hadn’t said anything about his past or family, she understood. Especially once she saw his cutie mark in the corner of her eye. A faded green apple, broken down the middle in a jagged line.
“She was the sister of my father.” Willow responded. “I think I have the right to know.”
Lilly nodded in silence before she turned her head to look at him. He didn’t look back; his eyes where fixed on the hat in front of them. The wind tugged on his mane, and it almost shimmered as it moved, the colors of the rainbow swirling around his face. She finally understood what he meant when he said his name was fitting. The bleak colors of his mane, his dark coat, deformed wings and faded cutie mark.
If all of these things where taken out of context and blown to life, they would all have been distinct characteristics in their own way, but put together in such a fashion as this, they truly did remind her of a willow. A sad apparition, lonely and ever quiet, swaying slightly as the breeze grabbed its thin branches.
“It was five years ago…” She began quietly. “Four years after the death of my parents. Even though she was just a few years older than me, she pretty much became a big sister to me after they died. We lived together, and she took care of me…”
“How… how did she die…?” Willow whispered cautiously.
Lilly looked at the hat on the pillar in front of them, and the tiny hole on its left side.
They say life flashes before your eyes as you draw your dying breath. Every forgotten or repressed memory plays up once again before you, like a dusty old movie waiting to dance across the wall and perhaps create smiles on the mouths of young fillies, or make tears fall from somepony’s cheek.
The good, the bad and everything in between, as well as every choice, change, spoken word, strain of thought, feel and emotion. It all comes back for that one final breath. Some ponies believe that this happens in order for the soul the get ready for the afterlife, by letting everything ever done just be done. It all washes away like waves on the shoreline, leaving behind a clean sheet of sand in its wake.
The soul is then at ease, free from the earthly troubles, and can move away from the lifeless husk that used to house it.
Others believe it’s simply an illusion, brought upon by the primal fear of death, the utmost wish to stay alive, wishing that this isn’t the last moment on earth. That the mind forces it all upon the dying mare or stallion, trying its best to fill its mind with their entire life, and perhaps keep up an even grander illusion. Perhaps they never died, perhaps they still live.
After all, if one is still reliving ones entire life, how can you be dead and gone?
Applebloom didn’t believe in any of those theories. Not when she was a young filly, and not now. To her, death was something that could neither be stopped, pushed away or foreseen. It came when it came, just as it was decided the day you were born. Nothing could change that, and since nopony ever came back from the dead, it was still impossible to prove or disprove anything.
She grew up learning that honesty was the most important thing, and her older sister Applejack often told her to never lie, no matter what. Lies caused nothing but trouble, not only for the ponies around you, but first and foremost for yourself. You tell one lie, and then have to tell another to cover up the first one. Eventually, you’ll be trapped inside your own web of lies, and have no choice but to break it down and admit the truth.
Her sister had been a good mare, no doubt about it. She raised Applebloom like her own foal, and loved her until her very last breath. Perhaps her life flashed before her eyes as she passed, a question Applebloom would never find the answer to until she herself left this world and reunited with her sister.
A cold wind forced her out of her deep thoughts of home. It whined loudly as it blew past her, sending a few snowflakes flying up into her face. Instinctively, she reached her right hoof up to her head and held down the dusty old Stetson that had replaced her red bow so many years ago. Her skin crawled from the cold, but she forced herself to push on through the night, not minding the high-pitched voice protesting behind her.
Eventually, the voice calling out to her grew faint and strained as the owner of it disappeared further and further back. Yet the calmness of complete silence never came since the wind howled on, not decreasing in strength for even a second. The mare wondered how bad it would be further up north, if the weather was this bad down here. She dreaded the thought of what might have become of Sweet Apple acres.
It was at this point she heard an unfamiliar sound penetrating the unrelenting wind. She stopped for not even a second, trying to figure out what she was hearing. She was sure she’d heard a loud snap through the wind, like that of a whip, yet somewhat distorted.
At the same time, she heard the voice behind her once again call out, screaming her name in a tone of complete terror. She didn’t understand why, or what was going on. Then, something flew by her head with a loud whoosh.
Suddenly, the cold around her disappeared, the snow melted and the cliffs shifted shape. They turned into walls made from wood, and the melting snow quickly got replaced by creaky floorboards, and a red carpet resting over them.
Lost in confusion, Applebloom felt her body shrink drastically, bringing her eyes closer to the floor beneath her. Her entire body changed shape, becoming smaller and somehow more compact, and a strange sensation spread across her head and backside. She realized this was her mane and tail growing shorter.
It all finally stopped once she was no more than a few inches from the floorboards, and as she tried to bend her head forward to look at her front legs, she immediately toppled over, as if her head was too heavy for her body. Her previous thoughts of wonder had now been erased. Blown out of her mind like drifting clouds in the endless blue sky.
All she could think of right now was why she was here on the floor in the first place. She turned her head slightly sideways, and a massive structure entered her field of vision. A big, dark objet made out of seemingly green wood towered before her, covered in blankets of different red colors. They had slipped halfway over the edge of the big frame, hanging down unto the floor like red moss.
Right next to her, a big fluffy pillow covered by images of apples rested on the floor. Slowly, her mind connected the dots, and as they did, a growing pain began to take form in one of her hind legs. Upon feeling this, Applebloom did the only thing she could; she opened her mouth and shouted loudly as tears begun to stream from her pinhead eyes.
Her cries cut through the silence around her, breaking the illusion of a peaceful existence. She yelled and sobbed her eyes out in her attempts to call for her sister, but her young mouth wasn’t able to fully pronounce words yet, and all that came out of it was a slow, guttural moan that to some could have held at least a tiny slither of the word “Apple”.
A voice answered her cries. The voice she wanted to hear above all others. Hurried hoof steps reached her ears, quickly growing louder as the owner of them came closer to her. Little Applebloom knew where she would show up, and turned her head towards the door leading out into the hallway of the second floor of the Apple farm.
The door had a strange color, almost similar to cyan or turquoise, with a red apple adorning the upper part of it. The apple moved before her eyes as the door swayed open, and She came into the room. It was difficult for the little foal to see her due to the tears clouding her vision, but she knew it was her. It was impossible to mistake her orange coat and tell-tale Stetson resting on top of her blonde mane.
A pair of emerald eyes met with hers, and the next second they frowned as her older sister Applejack hurried to pick her up from the floor.
“Aw, ya’ poor thing…” Applejack cooed as she picked her sister up in her arms and held her close. She sat down on the floor, resting her back against the bed. Slowly, she begun cradling the foal in her arms, but Applebloom’s tears wouldn’t stop.
“Come on now, little Sugar cube, it’s alright, Ah’m here.”
Applejack turned her head to the side, noticing the mess on the bed behind her.
“Did ya’ fall off mah bed there? How did ya even get up there in the first place?”
More tears. Applejack cooed softly, still cradling her young sister, trying to calm her down.
“Shhhh…”
After a little while, her cradling worked, and Applebloom stopped crying, settling only for silent sobs. The slow rocking back and forth had begun to lull her into sleep. Drowsiness coated her eyes.
“Feelin’ better now, sis?” Applejack whispered.
The sleepy little foal reached her front legs up towards her sister’s face in an attempt to touch it. Young as she where, she wasn’t able to grasp the concept of distance, and became confused as to why she couldn’t reach. After a few more attempts, her legs fell flat down again, touching Applejack’s mane in the process.
Instantly, she grabbed hold of it, tugged on it gently. She giggled slightly as she tried to undo the red ribbon tied around the edge of the blonde hair. Her sister smiled down at her. Once the foal realized she wasn’t able to remove the ribbon, she did what every foal did to everything they got ahold of; put the edge of the mane in her mouth and began to suckle on it.
Applejack chuckled at her younger sister as she felt her tug on her mane. Slowly, the foals eyes became heavier and heavier, finally closing. The suckling on her mane lessened and she felt the young body on her arms relax. Applebloom had fallen asleep.
Even though she knew that hair really wasn’t the best thing for a filly to have in their mouth, Applejack couldn’t bring herself to pull it away from the sleeping foal. Her heart melted at the sight, and slowly so as not to disturb Applebloom, she shifted position and laid down on the floor on her side, still holding her sister close in her arms.
Once again, the world shifted. The room disappeared, and in its place a grand oval room now stood. The ceiling was high up above her, with blue banners adorned with suns and moons hanging from the sets of balconies covering the walls all around her. Bouquets of flowers hung in the railings, with more blue banners strung up between them.
Applebloom’s body was now slightly bigger, and the prior feeling of comfort from the warmth of her sister’s arms had now been replaced by a sense of fear and she found herself trembling. The room was filled with other ponies; mares, stallions and foals, all of them trembling from fear just like her. Every pair of eyes was directed to the large balcony in the middle of the room.
Pale moonlight shone through the windows of the building, coating the black mare they were all watching in an otherworldly glow. It passed through her shimmering mane and tail, causing patterns of sparkles to spread around her like a dim aura of pure malice.
Applebloom shook even stronger as the black mare known as Nightmare Moon cackled insanely and sent magic rays of lightning flying through the air around her.
“Remember this day, ponies. It is your last.”
Nightmare Moon disappeared, along with everypony else around her, and the world went white as another flash of lightning tore everything in two. Images flashed before her eyes, the next one always faster than the other.
Different cutie marks soared in front of her, joined by the eyes of a long-since gone zebra. After that came the face of her cousin, Babs Seed, distorted within several emotions at once. There was Scootaloo with her frantically flapping little wings, and Sweetie Belle hiding behind her older sister Rarity. Tears streamed down Sweetie’s cheeks as Rarity faded away, leaving her alone in the world.
Suddenly, gravestones appeared around her. One of them had three perfect diamonds engraved into its smooth surface. The next had a brilliant, six-pointed star. After that came an apple.
Rarity, Twilight Sparkle and Granny Smith. All dead and buried, left to rot away as the world kept on going like nothing ever happened. Sweetie Belle hadn’t been the same after what happened to her sister. She disappeared some time later, and nopony ever saw her again.
After the gravestones came more faces. First there was the one of her older brother, Big Mac. His sharp chin was unmistakable and so was his brilliant green eyes staring off into the distance with a look of sadness on his face.
The red stallion turned his head backwards, away from Applebloom. Far away in the distance, almost completely invisible in the white sea surrounding them, a rainbow appeared, and it seems that was what Mac was looking at. Beneath the rainbow she could a pair of cerise eyes looking back at him. Determination coated them.
Mac slowly faded away as the mane and eyes belonging to Rainbow Dash disappeared into thin air, and Applebloom was sure she could hear the faint sound of somepony weeping near her.
The images moved faster around her, and she found herself looking through a window out into a starry night sky. From there, she could hear raised voices, both of them with the same accent as her. She looked down, and from her bedroom window she had a good view of the front porch of the farm.
She saw Applejack standing at the porch, back turned against her and her hat resting on the floor net to her. Applebloom couldn’t make out her words, but it was obvious that she was not only angry, but furious at the stallion on front of her, standing at the foot of the stairs with some sort of wrapping around his chest.
Never in all her days had she seen Applejack and Mac argue the way they did that night. Never had she seen her sister smash something out of sheer frustration. Never had she seen tears falling from Mac’s eyes.
The wrapping around her brothers chest was in fact a makeshift bag made out of leather and silk, formed into a big enough pouch to carry something the size of a small foal. A foal whose rainbow mane hung out of the opening of the bag, shimmering slightly in the pale light of the stars above them.
Big Mac left the farm that night. She never saw him again, and Applejack refused to talk about it. With granny dead and Mac gone, the Apple family had begun to break in the seams.
The window disappeared, replaced by knighting but shining white light. Whispers reached her, faint and far away, fading in and out of whatever reality there was to be found in this place. One particular whisper stood out to her, one she would never forget.
“Don’t forget me, sister.”
It was Applejack whispering to her. The last words she said to her as they shared their final embrace before Applebloom left the farm. She left for Appleloosa against her own will, persuaded by her sister that the farm wasn’t safe anymore, what with the war going on in the capital.
It was in this last embrace, this final farewell, that Applebloom inherited her older sister’s Stetson.
If only Applejack had known what she was sending her sister into. Appleloosa may have been far away enough to be safe, but there was no respite to be found in the south. Applebloom had been offered to stay with one of their relatives, a rather lively stallion by the name of Braeburn. Despite the fact that he was older than both Applejack and Applebloom, the old Apple stallion was still strong at will and in body.
And he made Applebloom’s life into a living hell.
It didn’t take long for her to notice the looks he gave her when nopony else was around. Quick glances and some harmless comments about her that still made her feel uneasy, mostly the things he said about her still blank flank.
Unlike her other friends, she still hadn’t earned her cutie mark even at such an old age, and Braeburn pointed this out as often as he could. At least, he blamed his wandering eyes on this. Eventually he took it too far, and tried to force himself upon her. It almost worked, but since she was younger than him she had enough stamina to outrun him.
It was after this incident that Applebloom meet the pony that would offer the rest of her life some amount of comfort. That small little oasis of peace in her constant struggle against her own emotions.
A blue little unicorn filly by the name of Lilith.
In time, Applebloom came to see the little one as her own child, and after the tragic death of her parents, there was nothing else for her to do than take care of her.
Up until this point, her life had flashed before her fast, image after image fading in and out of the endless white around her. Now, it changed once again, faster than it had during the memory of Nightmare Moon. The main street of Appleloosa appeared before her, but cold and empty, devoid of the usual liveliness of the warm south.
The color and warmth of the little town had been sucked away, replaced by grey skies and tiny specks of purest snow sailing to the ground. Applebloom’s body trembled, but it wasn’t she herself that shook; it was the small filly hiding in her arms. Little Lilly was crying quietly, pressed against her.
In the middle of the street, a scene none of them would ever forget was playing out, and Applebloom didn’t want to watch it, but she had to. She saw Lilly’s mother being pushed back and forth between the members of a group of around five to six stallions. They were taking turns with the crying, defenseless mare.
Applebloom was no longer sure if this was reality or a dream, but whatever it was she wanted to wake up and get away from the horror before her. But she didn’t wake up and the stallions didn’t stop their abuse. All she could do was to hold Lilly closer, doing her best to shield her ears from her mother’s cries of agony.
Another stallion soon joined the group, but this one wasn’t about to hurt the mare. Instead, he fired up his horn and shot several blasts of magic into the stallions in front of him. A few of them spiraled to the ground without getting back up; immobilized by some magic that Applebloom didn’t understand.
But no magic in the world was enough to contain the newfound rage of the stallions. The ones that hadn’t been blasted by magic rushed the unicorn and instantly pinned him to the ground. One of them stayed behind, restraining the mare with ease as he carried out his own sins, laughing at the unicorn’s pain.
Lilly’s mother pleaded for them to not hurt the stallion, to let him go. She would do anything if they just leaved her husband alone. But they didn’t listen to her, and her screams for mercy got mixed up with screams of pain as they focused all their strength on the unicorn stallion.
Applebloom felt Lilly go limp in her arms. She looked down only to find that the filly had passed out. She didn’t blame her; she wanted to do the same.
Before she looked back up, a loud crack filled the street, and afterwards Applebloom was happy she didn’t see what they did, even though the frantic screaming gave her a hint at what had happened. She looked up, instantly feeling her insides twist. The cold sand that made up the street was stained by something red.
The mare screamed louder, kicking to get loose from the vice grip they held her in. The stallions tossed her broken horn between themselves. The other unicorn, Lilly’s father, still lay on the ground, face down into the cold sand. He wasn’t breathing anymore, and small dots of white snow had already begun to gather on his coat.
From their hiding place inside a small shed in an alley, Applebloom still got a view of the incident that was all too good for comfort. She wished herself away, wished to either pass out like Lilly, wake up from this nightmare or just the strength to close her eyes. But she couldn’t. The screams of Lilly’s mother echoed inside her head, tearing through her like razor-sharp blades.
But she had to be strong, for little Lilly.
Finally after what felt like an eternity, the screams went silent. As they died down together with the mare, it was as if the entire world and Applebloom’s own existence had been shrouded by a thick veil, preventing any other sound or movement to penetrate and break the fragile world.
It was on legs feeling like liquid lead that she finally stood up, clutching Lilly tight in her arms. Nopony else came into the street. Nopony cared about the dead couple. They were all too afraid, or they just didn’t care. She looked back down on the orphan in her arms.
The orphan.
Lilly, who until only recently had a family, now torn away from the world forever. The longer Applebloom looked at the filly she held, the more something grew inside of her. Certainty. Determination.
Would she let this precious child grow up without love, in a world being torn to shreds? A world once so beautiful and full of love, now about to wither and fade away. Would she let Lilly grow up and face the horrors of this new world?
No. At least, not alone.
She would make sure that this innocent little creature would survive, become strong and determined. She would know love like that of a mother. Braeburn would help her; she wouldn’t give him any other choice. If he didn’t, she’d simply accuse him of the crime he almost committed on her.
The snowflakes around them seemed to become heavier as they fell, and she could feel every single one against her body like burning coals, yet it didn’t hurt her. All it did was force her to stay in this reality, to help. Slowly, she set off back home with the little filly.
The orphan. Lilith Eclipse.
Appleloosa faded from her mind, draining away like water through a metal grate. Then, there was fire. Smoldering ashes, black smoke and fear. She saw two ponies trapped inside the flames, ponies she knew and loved.
One was orange, her blonde mane framing her freckled face and emerald eyes. The other shimmered like the rainbow itself. They were pinned into a corner by the flames, too tired to fight anymore. Before her eyes, the wooden beams of the ceiling came crashing down towards them.
As they hit ground, burning splinters shot up in the air, circling around like whirlwinds, pulling everything else around them into a vortex of nothingness. The fire was gone, just as the ponies and everything around her.
A mirror materialized in front of her. A sudden jolt of anger and sadness caused her to bring her hoof into the air, then smash it hard into the sheet of glass. It shattered with a deafening roar, and as the shards seemed to fall to the floor in slow motion, she could see herself in them.
Old, her mane faded, bags underneath her eyes, and the musty old Stetson resting on top of her head like it always did. And her still barren flank. Through the broken reflection, she could see a blue little unicorn behind her.
She turned to look at Lilly.
“… Applebloom?”
Lilly’s voice was uncertain, fragile like ice upon early morning grass.
“Ah’m sorry, Lilly… But ah… ah need to…” Her voice failed her.
“I read the letter too.” Lilly whispered back. “Is it true…?”
Applebloom couldn’t do anything but nod. “They’re gone. Both of them.”
“I’m so sorry… mom.”
Hearing Lilly call her that for the first time made her break down into the tears she needed to cry. She fell to the floor and curled up tight, sobbing. No more than a few seconds later, she felt Lilly next to her, putting her arms around her, trying to comfort the mare she loved as a mother.
She’d gotten a letter just a little earlier. A letter from back home, from Sweet Apple acres. The violence in the capital had spread, and bandits calling themselves the true believers had struck out at Ponyville, and then her former home.
The fires of hatred burning inside the hearts of these rabid ponies spread far that night, and none that stood in their way lived to see the break of dawn.
As they advanced upon the farm, Applejack and Rainbow Dash defended it with their life until their last drop of blood. Despite their courageous attempts to drive the invaders away, two mares wasn’t enough to stop the rising tide of resentment.
The farm burnt to the ground, along with every apple tree in their orchards. Amongst the smoldering ruins and ash, the two mares found their final resting place. The orange country pony and her best friend, the fastest flyer in all of Equestria, fell defending the farm.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Lilly’s voice reached her ears yet again. Applebloom opened her eyes, and found herself sitting in their kitchen, at the dinner table opposite from Lilly. The window behind the unicorn told her it was early in the morning.
Applebloom nodded slowly. “Ah must… it was my home, Lilly. Ah need some sort of…”
“Closure?”
“Yeah. Closure.”
They both fell silent, each focusing on their own meal on the table, avoiding eye contact. Applebloom understood what Lilly was thinking about.
“… I don’t want you to leave.” Lilly’s voice was low, an almost inaudible whisper.
“Ah know.” Applebloom whispered back to her. “Ah don’t wanna leave you either, but…”
“You just have to?” Lilly filled in. “Can I… can I come with you?”
“It’s better if you stay here, it’s not safe on the road. Besides, ah don’t think you wanna go on such a long and boring journey, huh?”
“I just want to be with you…” Lilly’s voice faded away.
Applebloom sighed. She knew how headstrong Lilly was, and she had already lost this argument, long before it even started.
“Fine. But you’ll have to be careful, ah don’t want anything to happen.”
Lilly nodded. “I will.”
They both got up from the table, having finished their meals at pretty much the same time. Applebloom reached out to grab her plate between her teeth, but a light blue aura picked it up before she could get ahold of it. Lilly levitated the dishes towards the sink, but suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Applebloom.
At the same time, she felt a sort of prickling sensation on her flanks. The plates crashed into the floor.
“Applebloom… look.” Lilly pointed a hoof towards her flank.
She looked down, and felt her heart skip a beat. A bright light emanated from her, and she could see some sort of image manifest within it. Just a second later, the light was gone, leaving behind her very own cutie mark. But she didn’t cheer or feel any sort of joy at the moment, just wonder.
The image was something she’d never seen before, and she couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to look like or mean. Three spiraling lines, like whirlwinds, connected at the center into a triangle like shape. She couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping.
“What… Is that?” Lilly said slowly. “Wind? Water?”
“… Ah don’t know.” Applebloom said back, still not closing her gaping mouth. She tilted her head to the side, and the lines seemed to move on their own. A sort of optical illusion, she thought. She turned her head to Lilly with a smile on her lips.
“If this means my special talent is breaking wind, ah’m gonna kill somepony.”
Despite the both of them still not understanding what the symbol meant, they couldn’t hold themselves from laughing at her words.
And then suddenly, Applebloom was back where it all began. The snow and cold winds blew across her face as she walked on through the night, Lilly doing her best to keep up with her, but getting further and further back.
It would be a long trip, about a week if they walked, but at the end of that week, they would reach the Apple farm. She would be able to say goodbye properly.
A strong wind blew loudly past her, sending a few snowflakes flying up into her face. Instinctively, she reached her right hoof up to her head and held down the dusty old Stetson that had replaced her red bow so many years ago. Her skin crawled from the cold, but she forced herself to push on through the night, not minding the high-pitched voice protesting behind her.
Eventually, the voice calling out to her grew faint and strained as Lilly disappeared further and further back. Yet the calmness of complete silence never came since the wind howled on, not decreasing in strength for even a second. The mare wondered how bad it would be further up north, if the weather was this bad down here. She dreaded the thought of what might have become of Sweet Apple acres.
It was at this point she heard an unfamiliar sound penetrating the unrelenting wind. She stopped for not even a second, trying to figure out what she was hearing. She was sure she’d heard a loud snap through the wind, like that of a whip, yet somewhat distorted.
At the same time, she heard the voice of Lilly behind her once again call out, screaming her name in a tone of complete terror. She didn’t understand why, or what was going on. Then, something flew by her head with a loud whoosh.
There was no pain. Before she realized what had happened, her entire life had passed by her eyes, and she felt herself fall into darkness as the arms of death pulled her into a cold embrace.
“It was an arrow.” Lilly said, pointing a hoof towards the hat in front of them, towards the small hole in its side. “A group of Bleakers waited for somepony to ambush and rob, and it just happened to be us. She didn’t feel any pain.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Willow whispered yet again. “I wish I had known her.”
“She was strong. I’m sure she’s watching over us right now.”
After a few more minutes of silence, Lilly once again placed the old Stetson back on her head and turned to look at Willow. There was nothing but sadness in his eyes. He turned around with her, and they both headed out through the wall of ice behind them, emerging back into the harshness of life.
They didn’t get far before terrified yells reached their ears.
The scrawny Earth Pony known as Bucket amongst his friends looked over his shoulder anxiously. He couldn’t see anything due to the heavy snowfall, but he couldn’t help but get the feeling of being watched. Something was out there, he was sure of it. A chill ran down his back, not only because of the cold air.
“Stop it.” Rough Stomp said back to the shivering stallion. “There’s nothing there.”
“But, I’m sure I heard… Something…” Bucket insisted meekly, a tingle of shame starting to grow in his heart.
“We didn’t hear anything at all, right guys?” He looked at the other Stalkers resting around their small campfire, awaiting a response. Most of them shook their heads. “See? Nothing. Just like last time you asked. And the three times before that.”
Bucket sighed. Rough Stomp was probably right; he was just being a paranoid little fool. Maybe it was just the wind playing a trick on his mind, or the sounds of some animal, distorted through the breath of the air. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as the prior conversation between the Stalkers once again kicked back into gear.
“So, can I finish my story, or are you gonna interrupt me again?”
It took Bucket a moment to realize somepony spoke to him. He’d been trying to avoid the other’s faces and just looked down on the ground instead. Even before he looked up he knew who the voice belonged to; Red. He’d been telling some incoherent story about the undead just a few moments earlier.
Bucket shook his head in shame as a response to Red’s question.
“Thanks, you little shit. Now, where was I…?”
“You were saying something about pale ponies.” Rough Stomp quickly muttered. It wasn’t hard for Bucket to detect a small amount of boredom in his voice, but the others probably didn’t sense it. They didn’t understand feelings like he did. At least, that’s what Bucket told himself.
“Oh yes, the Banshees. Horrible beings, those things. So anyway, I was in Ponyville about a year ago when I ran into this guy who said he’d seen them. And no, Specter, he wasn’t drunk when he told me. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pony more sober than that poor sod. “
“Still think he was pissed off his balls…”
“No, he wasn’t. You know, for a pony by the name of Specter, you never shut up, do you? I thought ghosts were supposed to be quiet.”
“Unlike the Banshees…” Specter countered back.
They always went on like this, Red and Specter, and Bucket had learned to just ignore them. Why they bickered back and forth like a married couple was anypony’s guess. Maybe they were too much alike, or not enough. Either way, they never shut up as both of them refused to give in and let the other win.
It was probably a good thing that Red, true to his name, was a completely red stallion from mane to tail, or he would probably become red like a tomato during their arguments. A few of the other Stalkers often made fun of him behind his back, calling him “The Bull” on the account that one of them swore he saw smoke rising from his nostrils.
Bucket did his best to turn a deaf ear to their arguing. No matter how Red’s story about those Banshees or whatever the hay he called them, but Bucket could care less. In fact, what little he’d said made him feel even more uneasy, and the warm light of the campfire felt weaker, as if something sucked the warmth right out of it.
And then he heard it again.
A strange sound on the wind, like a distant moan. A low, deep sound, reminding him of somepony exhaling harshly. He perked his ears in the direction he believed the sound came from and strained himself to hear it again over the howling wind. But despite his attempts, the sound didn’t come back.
By now, Red and Specter had gone from arguing about the possibility of the before mentioned stallion’s levels of alcohol, into arguing about who believed in who. But they still went at each other with the same tenacity as before.
“At least Crescent believes in it!” Red suddenly exclaimed, his raised voice taking Bucket by surprise as he finally looked back up at them. “He believes in me, and the Banshees.”
“… And we all know why that is…” Somepony whispered nearby, Bucket couldn’t make out who it was.
He looked around at the other stallions, trying to figure out who said it, but they all remained silent. Red seemed like he hadn’t heard the whisper, and kept on defending his story.
“Anyway, we can’t say for sure that they aren’t real, right? I mean, have any of you seen what happens to a pony after they get sucked into a Wraith?”
“No, and neither have you.” Rough Stomp was the one to answer this time. “Because they’re dead by then and not really in the best condition to talk…”
The moan reached Bucket’s ears one again. Closer this time. Much closer. A brief moment before he jumped forward in fear, he was sure he felt someone breathing down his neck. He stumbled forward clumsily, turning around mid-air and tripping over the campfire, causing him to crash backwards into Red in the process.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” He asked angrily as he pushed the frightened stallion off of him. “You look like you’ve seen a bloody ghost. Not you, Specter.”
Specter frowned in annoyance at Red’s words.
Bucket was unable to speak. During the quarter of a second before he slammed into Red, he’d been able to see clearly into the snow behind him. And he saw a shadow in it. A clear, tall shadow, much higher than any other pony he’d ever seen, and with shapes that didn’t look natural to him.
“I… I saw…” He stumbled, tripping over his own words, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Alright, this does it!” Red yelled as he finally got free from Bucket. “I’m gonna go over there, and then come back. Hopefully that’ll be enough to convince you there’s nothing there.”
Red got up from the ground and looked first at Bucket, then at the others. All of them looked back at him with partially encouraging eyes. Clearly they too wanted Bucket to stop his scared wailing. He turned his head towards where Bucket apparently saw something, but the blizzard was too strong for him to make out anything.
He started walking hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, we won’t lose track of your red ass in the snow.” Specter said gleefully, hoping to still win their argument by getting the last insult.
Red didn’t answer. He kept on walking, passing the place where Bucket had been sitting, and further still into the white mist. Just before he disappeared, they heard him utter one last word, without any doubt directed at Specter.
“Douchebag.”
Then he was gone without a trace.
The Stalkers awaited his return in silence, looking patiently at the spot where he’d disappeared. Bucket half expected to hear Red’s bloodcurdling scream any second. But nothing happened. No screaming, no movement, no Red.
A minute passed. Two minutes. Some of the stallions around the fire began to show signs of worry, shifting around in their seats and exchanging puzzled looks. They began to glimpse slightly at Bucket, some of them whispering words about him. He knew they would blame him if anything happened to Red.
Five minutes had passed, and Bucket finally couldn’t take it anymore. The looks the other Stalkers gave him, and the increasing murmuring around him urged him on to make his decision to stand up once again. The others looked at him but didn’t say anything as he slowly set off, following Red into the mist surrounding them.
The moment he stepped out of the comforting light of the fire, it was as if the blizzard slapped him in the face with an icy glove, instantly chilling him to the bones. He began to shake as he walked through the snow, and he couldn’t do anything to stop his rattling teeth.
“Red?!”
No answer except the howling of the wind.
Should he turn back? Maybe he and Red had passed each other in the thick mist, and he was back at the fire, worrying about where he could have gone off to… No, he couldn’t go back. Didn’t want to seem weaker than he already gave the impression of being. He’d show them.
He looked around him, squinting his eyes to try and see anything, but it was useless, the snow was too thick. And then he felt it again. Breathing down his neck, followed by that horrible low moan. Bucket quickly spun around, determined to not chicken-out this time around. For a split second, he caught sight of a tall shadow moving through the white around him.
It seemed to be moving away from him, thankfully. Whatever it was, he hoped dearly it wasn’t dangerous.
“Scared, are we?”
Bucket almost jumped out of his skin. The voice that spoke to him was wheezing and raspy, unnatural. Like the wind was speaking, creating words through air. It terrified him, rendering him speechless. The black shadow appeared in front of him again, standing still just a few feet before him. He couldn’t move, the fear in him crippling him.
“Who… Who are you…?” He finally whispered between teeth clamped so hard together it hurt his jaws. The shadow moved around him.
“Oh, nobody in particular.” The voice responded. “Just a messenger.”
Then the black figure disappeared completely. Bucket was sure the blood in his veins had turned to ice. After a few moments, he was able to move again. It was as if the shadow had paralyzed him, and now that it was gone, his limbs worked again. He spun around, trying to orient himself so that he could find his way back to the fire.
Before he could decide which way to head, terrified yells reached him through the wind. His heart stopped as he recognized the voices of Red, Specter and Rough Stomp. Quickly, he rushed towards the direction of their screams. He’d never heard anypony scream in such a way before.
It made him fear what he would find once he got to them, but he couldn’t just ignore his friends. The screams became louder, and he caught a glimpse of a bleak, orange light in the distance. The fireplace. He turned around and galloped as fast as he could towards it.
Coming closer, he could see three additional spots of light, red in color and much stronger than that of the fire. For some reason, these new lights looked to be hovering a few meters over the ground.
As he stepped into the light, the screaming stopped instantly, almost as if he’d stepped into a bubble that isolated every single sound around him. Bucket stopped in his tracks and looked around the campfire, feeling his skin crawl.
He couldn’t stop himself from falling to the ground once he saw what was in front of him.
It was Red. And Specter and Rough Stomp. All around him, crimson blood stained the snow, looking like giant gashes on the surface of the earth. Scattered about in the blood was the remains of his friends. The eyes of Rough Stomp’s severed head looked straight at him, staring into his soul.
He wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He wanted to run away, but his legs had turned into a tingly mess, and he wouldn’t be able to move them even if he wanted to. All he could move was his eyes, but no matter how badly he tried to shut his eyelids, they refused to move.
The fire was almost out, due to the mangled body of Specter smothering it slowly. The smell of searing flesh reached him. Unlike Rough Stomp, he was mostly intact, but his head hung in an unnatural way, his neck twisted beyond breaking point.
The remains of Red were almost impossible to make out due to the red color of both his coat and hair, mixed together with the blood surrounding him. It looked like he’d been reduced to nothing but a red mess.
Amidst the sanguine stains and his dead friends was the shadow.
It looked at him, towering far above him. Bucket wasn’t able to feel fear for this being, seeing his friends mutilated bodies had caused his mind to shut down for the moment. The shadow clearly wasn’t a pony, and whatever it was it was standing upright on its hind legs rather than on all fours.
It was completely coated in black.
Bucket blinked slowly, confused as a red veil seemed to appear before his eyes. His body didn’t register anything as he was lifted up into the air, floating up above the strange shadow before him. It looked up at him, and he could see part of its face. It wasn’t of this world, and its eyes burned as they tore into his mind.
“This one is still young.” The shadow spoke slowly, and for the brief time it did, its hissing voice felt almost soothing to Bucket’s ears. “Still innocent. Untouched, unspoiled.”
The red color coating Bucket’s eyes withdrew slowly.
“No sin within this one.”
A second later, he sailed through the air. He saw the ground approach him fast, but he couldn’t react or shield himself from the impact. He crashed into the snow hard, burying himself into it. As he hit ground, something inside him uncoiled, and he suddenly became all too aware of his limbs, and the growing pain in his body. And the fear.
He turned his head around, and the shadow was still standing where it had been before he crashed into the ground, observing him from afar. He wasn’t sure what to do or even how to react to such a thing, now that he had the ability to do so.
“Get out of here.”
Bucket felt his body move on its own, raising him up from the ground. While he did, the shadow slowly turned its back against him, as if it was about to leave.
“Run back to your Elders. Let them know of what you have seen here.”
The shadow moved, raising two of its limbs upwards into the sky. A second later, the wind around Bucket turned direction, caught in a massive whirlwind. The young stallion understood what he saw, but his mind was unable to process it.
All he could think of now was to run and not look back. So that’s what he did. He stepped backwards, almost tripping on his own legs before he turned around and set off running through the heavy blizzard, finally able to let out his fears and emotions through tears.
He ran as fast as he could, back to the rest of the Stalkers. Back to Ashcraft.
All that remained of the shadow was a rather big, black feather, sailing in the wind.
Lilly and Willow hurried through the settlement, wind whipping their faces and snow flying around their legs as they ran in the direction of the screaming. None of them recognized the voice, but whoever it was obviously needed help. Unlike most ponies, they at least cared about others, and wasn’t about to stand idly by in what may well be an emergency.
As they approached the inn, Lilly caught a glimpse of Duskshine who was just stepping out of the building. He was looking in the direction of the yelling, clearly listening to it. Once they came closer, he averted his attention away from the sounds and looked at Lilly, signaling to her to stop by waving a hoof at her.
She skidded to a stop, almost falling over in the snow. Willow didn’t stop, but once he noticed that Lilly had, he slowed down and looked over his shoulder at her.
“You go on, I’ll catch up.” She called out to him. The Pegasus nodded and picked up his pace. Lilly watched him disappear in the distance between the shanty buildings.
“What was that, anyway?” Duskshine asked her as she approached him. “Did you hear it?”
“Yeah, somepony screaming.” Lilly responded. “We were heading over to see what was going on.”
“Oh.” The stallion said calmly. Without adding another word, he started to walk in the same direction that Willow had taken.
Lilly followed him, trotting on behind him in silence. He was an odd pony. At times he’d never shut up, and at times he closed himself shut, like he was doing now. It was difficult to understand when and why he would go quiet in such a way, and Lilly had given up in trying to understand it. At least, one thing he rarely stopped talking about was what their conversation on the Wall a few days prior had been about.
Duskshine never gave up in his attempts to get into her bedroom, despite Lilly turning him down over and over. She wasn’t really sure what to think of this either, and often alternated between feeling flattered one day, angered the next. Still, he never gave up, and she’d grown to accept it.
“I talked to the Elders about your, uh… Well, what you did at the Wall.” It had been quite between them for a few minutes, and the sound of his voice almost startled Lilly at first.
The Elders. The ponies in charge of their settlement, calling every shot and deciding on everyone’s fate. For as long as Lilly had lived here, she’d gathered that it was a tradition in this area to take the three oldest ponies of each race, and appoint them leaders. Apparently it had always been that way, and no one else seemed to wonder about it the same way as she did.
“Did they…” She began. “Are they upset with me?”
It was always three of them; an earth pony, a Pegasus and a unicorn regardless of gender. Always three, always the oldest. Apparently no one else was allowed to ever see them once they became leaders, and only a handful of chosen ponies had the privilege to ever talk to them. Duskshine was one of those privileged, for reasons he refused to talk about whenever she asked.
“They sure aren’t happy with you. Two of them actually wanted to send you away from town as punishment for your recklessness.”
“So then why am I still here?” Lilly asked quickly. Once the Elders came to a decision, nothing would change their minds. She knew that for a fact, just as well as everypony else. If they wanted her gone, she would already be gone.
“I said only two of them wanted to send you away.” Duskshine said back to her. “The third at least had some sense in him. I vouched for you, and he listened to it. I told him you lost your hat, and that it had high sentimental value to you. The others laughed at what I said, but not the last one. Can you believe it? I’ve never heard the Elders laugh...”
“So they couldn’t come to a decision?” Lilly asked as Duskshine paused.
“No, because of the empathy of that one stallion, they said they would look past just this once. But if you break the rules like that one more time, they assured me that they would throw you out faster than a stinking bucket of manure.”
They could see the Wall of in the distance, as well as a small crowd of ponies gathered around it. It seemed that whoever was screaming was there, or on the outside. They picked up their pace.
“Thanks…” Lilly said shyly. “If you hadn’t said whatever you said to them, I would probably be on the other side of that by now...” She nodded towards the wall in front of them.
“Don’t mention it, missy. Just try to stay out of trouble from now on, okay? That little stunt you pulled off, that was like playing with the sharp edge of a knife, girl. Don't do it again. Oh, and by the way… You said you were gonna tell me about that hat of yours, but you never did. They asked me why it was so important to you, but I couldn’t really give them a good answer…”
“It belonged to the mare that raised me after my parent’s death.” Lilly answered. “Her name was Applebloom.” She didn’t care to hide it from him any longer, after he’d stood up to the Elders for her sake; he at least deserved the truth.
“Applebloom, huh?” He said with a frown. “I think I’ve heard that name before… Did she have an older sister?”
“Applejack?” Lilly raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s her! Oh, AJ… That lass bucked hard, let me you.” Duskshine sighed in what seemed to be nostalgia. Or perhaps longing.
“Yeah, Applebloom told me. Said she could buck apples from sunrise to sunset.”
“I wasn’t talking about apples.” Duskshine glared at her with a devious smile.
“Then what did you mean…?” Her eyes met Duskshine’s, and for a moment she thought she saw something burn inside of them. Like a sudden spark of youth or long lost love.
“Well, I mean we used to… you know. Do the horizontal tango.”
Lilly sighed and rolled her eyes. “Are you ever gonna change, you pervert?”
“Probably not. Can’t help it, I love me a good fu-“
“Just shut up, will you?” Lilly interrupted him mid-sentence; effectively putting an end to what she feared would have been another one of his detailed stories of his… encounters.
Somepony by the wall screamed again, and this time they could hear that it was actually a call for help rather than just inane shouting. Lilly looked over at Duskshine, and he looked back at her at the exact same moment.
Just a few seconds later, they pushed themselves through the crowd gathered in front of them. They came out on the other side, but couldn’t see anypony shouting. The looked around at the other poines around them, but no one seemed to be about to do anything else than just stand there and look at the wall.
“… Please… let me in!”
The voice came from the other side of the wall. It had grown weak, obviously worn out from all the shouting. Neither Lilly Nor Duskshine recognized it, but it was clear that it was a stallion, possibly quite young. They could hear he had been crying, or maybe he still was.
“Can anypony hear me? Please, he’ll come back for me… Please!”
Duskshine spun around and looked at the ponies, not noticing Lilly as she hurried up the stairs leading to the top of the wall.
“Are you all just gonna stand there like gawking cows?” He stamped his hoof in anger. “Why aren’t you doing anything to help him, you silly sods?”
They didn’t answer him; they just looked away or averted their eyes to the ground. They seemed to be ashamed of themselves.
“Damn cowards…” Duskshine sighed as he turned around and set off after Lilly up the stairs.
Lilly was already at the top once he joined her, looking down on the other side of the wall. Duskshine followed her example and looked down as well, seeing a rather small and scrawny little stallion on the other side.
The moment Lilly saw him, she wanted to jump down to him and comfort him, but the threat of the Elders stayed her. She couldn’t do anything else than watch until Duskshine decided what to do. The stallion beneath them looked young, maybe younger than herself, and looked almost as if he hadn’t been eating anything for a long while.
Thin and scrawny, with an unkempt black mane that she even from her spot so high up could see was covered in filth, and his grey coat wasn’t in any better condition. The first word that came to her mind was broken. That, or just scared out of his mind. Either way, the stallion beneath them was clearly in desperate need of help.
Her heart ached as she saw the poor pony rear up on his back legs and slam his hooves into the wall one last time before he slowly sank down unto the ground. She had to fight her feelings to prevent herself from just leaping down to him immediately. Despite being so young, her maternal instincts where strong, sometimes almost overpowering.
“Will?” She whispered without taking her eyes off the stallion. “Duskshine…?”
She slowly turned to look at him, still fighting her instinct to jump down as well as the tears threatening to build up in her eyes. “Please help him.”
Suddenly a red face with frowning eyes entered her field of vision from the left, followed by a rainbow mane. Before any of them could say anything, Willow launched himself off of the wall, sailing down through the air towards the grey stallion. No more than a second later, Duskshine followed him.
They landed on each side of the frightened stallion, who was now too exhausted to move or react to their arrival. He just sank further down on the ground slowly, as if some otherworldly force pushed him down, flattening him in the snow.
“How in the hell are we gonna get him up there…?” Duskshine asked Willow slowly, turning his gaze up towards the wall, towards Lilly.
Willow looked around them, as if he was searching for something he would never find. He moved slightly to the right, spinning around and stomping his hooves in the snow for some reason.
“It seems sturdy enough.” He said back to Duskshine. “Come on, I’ll help you push him up on your back.”
Duskshine nodded and bent his legs while pushing his snout against the now passed out stallion’s side. Willow pushed from the other side, and a few seconds later, they’d managed to push the stallion over Duskshine’s head and unto his back.
“Now what?”
“Here, use my back as leverage.” Willow answered the question, and positioned himself in such a way that somepony might leap unto his back from the side.
Duskshine instantly understood what to do, and quickly trotted off a few meters in order to get more speed. The stallions nodded at each other to signlar that they both where ready, and Duskshine rushed towards Willow, leaping forward through the air. He did exactly what he was supposed to do by planting his hooves in the back of Willow.
He felt a sensation as of a spring pushing him upwards as Willow arched his back hard to give him more speed. It worked, and a moment later Duskshine landed net to Lilly on the wall. As he did, the stallion on his back slid off of him and hit the boards beneath them with a thud. Just a few moments later, Willow clambered up the edge with a little help from Lilly, pulling him up.
“Bet you’ve never seen a Pegasus that needs help getting off the ground.” He said to her jokingly as he stepped past her over the edge.
Lilly didn’t answer his comment, she was already busy trying to help the frightened stallion to his hooves. It seemed the launch through the air had awakened him slightly, and he struggled to keep himself up as Lilly supported him on one side, and Duskshine on the other. As they walked slowly down the stairs leading down to solid ground, the wind around them howled hard.
It tugged on their manes, causing strands of Duskshine’s orange hair to slap across the other stallion’s face, which in turn made him become more awake and aware of his surroundings. Lilly had a hard time supporting him and holding down her hat on her head at the same time, but despite this they made their way down to the bottom of the stairs.
As they did, a quite murmur spread through the crowd of ponies waiting for them, and worried looks where exchanged between them. But none seemed willing to lift a hoof to help.
“He… He’ll come for me…”
The stallion’s voice wasn’t even a whisper as he spoke, sounding more like a brittle sheet of glass about to brake. It faded away as he spoke, disappearing the wind around them.
“Who’s coming?” Lilly asked the stallion who still had trouble standing on his own. Ha swayed back and forth between her and Duskshine, almost causing Lilly to fall over on her side.
The stallion inhaled sharply, and Lilly almost expected him to start screaming again, but all that came out of him was one simple word, louder than a whisper but not strong enough to reach normal speaking tone. One simple word, spoken with such fear that even Lilly felt chills down her back, and Duskshine frowned deeply.
“Death.”
For some reason, Duskshine removed himself from the other side of him, leaving Lilly to hold up almost all of his entire weight on her own. But thankfully, he was standing upright much better now than earlier, but he still swayed slightly. Lilly shot a wondering look at Duskshine. He didn’t look back at her.
“Death comes for us all, but I doubt he’ll be here for you so soon, lad.” He spoke slowly without looking at either of them. Instead, he seemed to focus on something in the distance, perhaps something nopony else could see. Perhaps some drifting memory, slowly fading between the grinding teeth of time.
He didn’t say anything else, and Lilly wasn’t sure what to answer. Instead, she lowered her head close to the other stallion’s ears and whispered gently. “What’s your name?”
“… B… Bucket…” The stallion whispered back to her. Slowly he turned his head to the side so that she could get a better look at his face. A pair of terrified and sad yellow eyes looked back at her. Something wet was building up around its lower edge, and she could see clear stains running down his cheeks.
“What happened to you out there, Bucket?”
The stallion named Bucket didn’t have time to answer, but if he did, Lilly probably wouldn’t have been able to hear what he said anyway. More shouting suddenly echoed across the area, this much closer than the ones from before. The crowd of ponies begun moving about, most of them looking backwards and stepping out of the way for somepony, and Lilly suspected it was the pony shouting.
“Come on, you lazy fuckers, move it! Move it, let us through!”
She recognized the voice, and for just a moment her heart skipped a beat out of worry. The following moment, a second voice accompanied the other.
“Very smooth, Sawblade, really…”
The last of the ponies parted, and Sawblade exited the crowd, followed by Crescent.
“With charm such as that, I’m surprised they haven’t elected you king yet…” Crescent continued with a smirk.
“Fuck you, Crescent.”
“Love you too, buddy…”
The exact same words as back at the inn, Lilly realized. She wondered if that was something they said to each other often, at least it seemed that way.
“Now, what was all that hollering about, I…” Crescent turned to Lilly, his eyes stopped dead at the stallion next to her. “Bucket…?” Instantly, Crescent rushed towards them with Sawblade following right behind him.
Lilly stepped away to allow them more free room, she didn’t want to intrude more than she already had.
“Crescent, I…” Bucket mumbled as he did his best to stand. “, I-he…”
“Calm down, Bucket. Breathe.” Crescent placed a hoof on Bucket’s shoulder to comfort him. “Where are the others? Did something happen?”
“I’m sorry… They’re all… dead.” Bucket whispered slowly, tears once again streaming down his cheeks, creating new stains on his coat.
“Dead? Wh-what happened?
“He… It… He tore them to shreds. To shreds, Crescent, there was nothing left, he just…”
“What are you talking about? Who?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it before… I think… It was a shadow, walking on two legs. Red magic… I just ran.”
“That… sounds a bit too familiar…” Duskshine spoke up as he came closer to the pair of stallions. “As far as I know, there’s only one being that walks on two legs... You know what I’m talking about, right?” He looked at Crescent, wondering.
“You mean…Him? No, that’s impossible, crazy talk.”
“Let’s pray to both Celestia and Luna that it is just that; crazy talk… Bucket? Did you see his face?”
Bucket hesitated a few seconds before he shook his head. “I… Only his eyes.”
“Did they make you feel… soothed? Calm?”
Once again, Bucket nodded. “It was as if they stopped me from moving, and I couldn’t think.. And Crescent, it had… wings. Big, black wings.”
“I don’t like the sound of this…” Sawblade whispered. The other’s nodded in silent agreement.
Lilly had watched in silence ever since they began talking, and still didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. Clearly, the Stalkers knew something she didn’t, and it seemed to terrify them. Shadows with red magic and wings…? Duskshine was right, it did sound like crazy talk.
“What are you all talking about?” She asked, fed up with being kept in the dark, so to speak, in such a way. “What is this ‘shadow’?”
The Stalker named Crescent looked up at her with a concerned face. “You know what a human is, right…?” He said quietly so only the ones close could hear it.
“I know we had a king that was human, a long time ago…”
“Yes. Dust, the man that married Princess Luna and ruled Equestria with her for almost thirty years. He passed away ten years ago, and there hasn’t been another human in our world since, or before him.”
“So… you think this shadow is a human…?”
The three of them nodded. “From what he’s said, it certainly seems that way…” Duskshine said.
“But those details…” Crescent filled in. “Wings and magic doesn’t sound human to me…”
Duskshine sighed deeply, and smoke rose from his mouth due to the cold. He looked at Crescent, then Bucket, followed by Sawblade and Lilly, then back to Crescent again.
Crimson blood stained almost every inch of snow around them. Severed body parts, and what looked to be bone fragments littered the ground, drenched in red. The fireplace had died out, deprived of air from the body of one of the Stalkers thrown over it. His chest and belly had been ripped open, all the way from his chin down to his groin.
Another mangled body lay on the ground close by, its head ripped off in what looked to be a perfect cut. Like the cut from a razor sharp blade. The head was nowhere to be found, making it difficult to identify the body.
Next to the decapitated stallion, the remains of the last Stalker could be found, and it was no more than a red mess of organs and shattered bones.
“Holy mother of…”
Duskshine heard Willow whisper behind him, but he didn’t finish the sentence before the contents of his stomach shot up his throat and silenced him as it spewed out of his mouth. He didn’t say anything else after it, the point of what he wanted to say already clear.
He didn’t blame the poor colt. The scene before them was so horrific, it almost bordered over into insanity rather than disgust. The tremendous violence these stallions had been subjected to was almost unbelievable. Duskshine looked around the campfire in silence, taking in the awful combination of red and white in front of him, doing his best to fight the impulse to run away from it all.
As his eyes came upon a small speck of blood not too far away, he had no choice but to give in and look away, it became too much, even for him. The small speck of blood was in fact somepony’s eyeballs, gouged right out of the skull of whoever they belonged to. He couldn’t bear the thought, and prayed that the pony was already dead when it happened.
He took a few steps away from the mutilated bodies, and as he turned around to examine the outskirts of the area instead, he caught a glimpse of the Stalker named Crescent in the corner of his eyes. His face was twisted in a mask alternating between nothingness, anger and sorrow. Clearly, he was trying to hold his emotions inside, fighting himself not to give in.
Unable to fight any longer, Crescent kicked a smoldering and soot stained cooking pot from the ground. It flew across the area hard, coming to a stop as it smashed straight into the body of the pony with no head. Crescent screamed in agony and fell to his knees, not stopping his cries until he smashed his face into the snow beneath him.
“Who the hell would do this…?” Sawblade whispered, having been quiet up to this point. He was standing next to Crescent, not moving an inch and without showing any emotion whatsoever. His eyes looked almost dead, the way they stared unto the bodies of their friends.
At the edge of the camp, Duskshine scanned the ground for any trace or clue as to what happened and who or what did it. Eventually, he found a partial print in the snow. “Crescent?” He called out, paying no attention to whether or not he listened to him. “There’s a print here… It’s… It’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” He heard Willow reply instead of Crescent, who probably still had his face buried in the snow.
“Well…” Duskshine began. “It’s not a hoof print.”
Instantly, Crescent’s face jolted back up from the snow, taking on a completely new expression of worry and even anger. Duskshine could see tears still running down his cheeks as he spoke.
“Please, don’t tell me it’s what I think it is…”
Duskshine pursed his mouth and frowned before nodding slowly. “It’s a foot print. From a shoe worn by a human.”
“You can’t be serious.” Sawblade said. “They don’t exist anymore.”
“And yet a human left this print here.” Duskshine responded.
Duskshine looked up from the print in the snow, just in time to see Crescent rise up from the ground and hurry over towards him with a frown over his face. He was taken back as the Stalker with red mane almost shoved his face into his own.
Crescent whispered slowly as he spoke to Duskshine. “If you tell me Dust made these prints and tore my friends apart, I’ll bag you and toss you to the Wraiths.”
Duskshine recoiled slightly from the Stalker, trying to calm him down. “I’m not saying it was him, but who else would it be? I mean…”
“He died a long time ago.”
“That I know, lad, but try to look at this rationally. He’s the only human to ever set foot in Equestria..”
“But to think he did this is an insult to his memory.” Crescent didn’t move his jaw as he spoke, his teeth clamped shut hard, creating a wheezing sound, coating his words with clear anger.
Duskshine went silent, having realized Crescent was unable to sway in his defense, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he defended a dead human in such a way. “Just calm down, alright?” He looked back down at the tracks. “We could follow them backwards, see where they came from.”
Crescent’s face didn’t move an inch as he answered. “Fine. Sawblade, Willow! Come one, we’re heading out…” He turned around to face the other stallions, only to realize that only Willow was left, standing on the opposite side of the campfire, his eyes averted from the bloody carnage in front of him.
“Willow, where’s Sawblade?” Duskshine yelled at him.
The Pegasus shrugged quickly, still not looking at them or the blood. The others scanned around the area, trying to distinguish any sign of the massive stallion, but he was nowhere to be seen. The snowfall around them was building up once again, and it had begun to disguise the blood and bodies in a thin layer of white powder. Soon, no more traces of the massacre would be left.
“We’d better hurry, or we’ll lose the tracks.” Crescent whispered as he squinted his eyes, searching for his companion within the white fog.
“Should we go on anyway?” Willow asked from where he stood.
“We can’t just leave him, you stupid colt.” Duskshine replied. “Whatever did this could still be out there…”
A few more minutes passed in silence as the three stallions awaited the fourth one, still lost somewhere in the mist. Willow still refused to look at the bodies, but by that time they had all but disappeared in the snow. Duskshine and Crescent circled around the camp, careful so as not to wander off too far. After a while, Crescent sat down on his haunches in the cold snow and sighed. He opened his mouth, and Duskshine realized he was just about to call out for the other Stalker.
Just as he drew in a deep breath, another voice echoed from the white mist around them, interrupting Crescent before he even had time to form his lips into words.
“Guys?” A black shape appeared in the fog in front of them. “Look who I just found lurking about.”
Crescent drew a sigh of relief as Sawblade finally emerged from the heavy snowfall. A few seconds later, and Duskshine sighed as well, but from annoyance rather than relief. As Sawblade came closer, another shape appeared behind him, moping slowly with its head low. The cloak it wore swayed in the wind around the blue unicorn.
“Lilith!” He shouted, quickly getting up and almost galloping over to her. “What in the name of Celestia are you doing here, you stupid girl?!”
Lilly still had her head low, clearly ashamed. If it was because she broke the rules of her village once again, or the fact that she was caught doing so was beyond Duskshine, and he didn’t care either. He was too upset with her to think about it.
“I just… I wanted to help.” Lilly responded, meekly.
“I told you to wait in Ashcraft!” Duskshine yelled before she could finish her sentence. “Remember what happened just a few days ago, when you went after that hat of yours? Remember how you almost got yourself killed?”
“Duskshine, I…”
“What if you ran into another Wraith, and I wasn’t there to help you this time? You know what happens to ponies that get pulled into them!” Duskshine’s anger seemed to build as he yelled, and Lilly seemed to get smaller, shrinking from shame as he towered above her.
“But… I thought this was my only chance to…” Lilly whispered. Her usual spirit and brash attitude gone, drifting away on the wind.
“Your chance to do what?” Duskshine spat out at her.
“To prove myself worthy… to be one of them.” Lilly slowly pointed a hoof towards Sawblade a Crescent. “… A Stalker.”
“The Elders would never allow that, Lilly. Not after this; you’ve broken the rules one to many times now. Damn it, lass, why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“I just wanted to help others.” Lilly said, raising her head to look at Duskshine. Her eyes looked strange to him, tired and weak. Almost as if she’d been awake for days.
“You’re not going to help anypony by coming out here alone; you’ll just end up dead in a ditch somewhere!” Duskshine yelled back at her.
“She’s not alone.” A new voice floated by Duskshine’s ears, darker and a little bit more determined than the voice of Lilly, but he could still sense the insecurity in the words.
A moment later, a second pony emerged from behind Lilly, a grey little stallion walking on trembling legs. His black mane lashed across his face in the wind, Making Bucket look much older than he actually was.
“Oh, for the love of…” Duskshine rolled his eyes and sighed once again. “You too?”
“I’m… I’m a Stalker.” Bucket said with a quivering tone. “My place is with them.”
“No, you should rest, not be here.” Crescent said from behind them. “You shouldn’t be here, Bucket. Not after what you’ve been through.”
“I don’t give one or two shits about Bucket!” Duskshine lashed out, whether or not he shouted at Crescent or nopony in particular was anyone’s guess. “Lilly’s the one who’s just gone and fucked herself! Do any of you have any idea what the Elder will do to her, they’ll…”
Suddenly, Duskshine went silent, his mouth remaining open and his eyes wide as he just stared behind Lilly and Bucket. He seemed to have become completely frozen in place, unable to move, think or yell anymore. From the fog that had hidden Lilly and Bucket, something more emerged. He couldn’t decide what it was; it didn’t look natural to him.
It was as if the snow itself had broken apart, creating a thin sheet of purest white that drifted on its own through the wind. It shimmered slightly, and it reminded him of smoke. It took him several seconds to understand what he was actually looking at.
A pony. Not snow, not smoke, just a pony, dressed in a long white cloak, moving freely in the wind like ripples on water. The pony had a hood covering its entire face, and the cloak was so long, it became impossible for Duskshine to see if it was a mare or a stallion. The only thing he could gather from this strange visage was that it chilled him to the bone.
The cloaked pony walked past Lilly and Bucket, giving them a slow nod as it passed. Duskshine remained paralyzed as it walked up to him, placing itself next to him. He still couldn’t see its face due to the large hood that for some reason didn’t get blown off by the wind. Duskshine couldn’t blink as the pony turned its head towards him, and he was able to see its face.
Underneath the hood, a pair of dark violet eyes instantly met his own.
The face around them seemed almost perfectly shaped, like it had been chiseled painstakingly from nothing but the finest materials, perfected through years of work. It wore an almost arrogant look as it stared into his eyes, and Duskshine did his best to remember the face despite being paralyzed by some otherworldly force.
The dark violet eyes, a light, almost pink coat covering the masculine snout and defined jaw. The lone strands of dark blue mane covering part of the left side of the pony’s face. The strange shapes in its forehead, partially hidden beneath the mane and hood…
“So you decided to join us, Phantom?” Duskshine heard Crescent’s voice asking from behind him. “Don’t worry, Duskshine. He’s with us.”
The strange pony in white cloak turned away from him. Duskshine couldn’t help but think what a fitting name Phantom was for such an apparition.
“… Phantom, huh?” He whispered as he felt the paralysis let go of him. “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you earlier…”
“He doesn’t talk.” Crescent hurriedly replied. “He’s a mute, you see. He didn’t follow us into town, he was standing watch outside. Phantom, did you see anything of what happened here?”
Phantom shook his head without making a sound before slowly making his way around the camp, gracefully walking through the snow, almost floating.
“So what, you’re just gonnna believe him? Just like that, no more questions?” Duskshine said quickly. “For all I know, he was close by when this happened, he might of…” He went quiet as Phantom once again looked straight at him, and the chilling paralysis embraced his body once more.
“Yes, I believe him.” Crescent said. “And you’d do best to trust him, you don’t want to make him angry.”
“Uh… What about the tracks…? You guys forgotten about them?” Willow’s question took them all by surprise, effectively breaking the cloud of unease that had hung over them.
Duskshine nodded and removed himself from his place. He hurried cross the camp without looking over at Phantom, and quickly passed by the other Stalkers. They turned behind him and followed, and so did Lilly and Bucket.
“Oh no, missy.” Duskshine hollered at her. “You’re going to head back to town right now, and maybe you can avoid making the Elders even angrier with you.”
Lilly trotted up to him. “You know what?” She said. “I don’t care about the Elders, all they do is sit around in the dark and wither away like plants. If I’m going to become a Stalker, I have to be ready to put my own safety on the line to help others, right?”
She snapped her tail at him as she passed, her old attitude once again returned. It whipped him across the face. Duskshine sighed again, wondering if it was possible to sigh any deeper than he already had.
“She’s got some spunk, that one.” Crescent said with a low voice as he walked past Duskshine. “I’d watch myself around her I was you.”
Duskshine didn’t pay any attention to what the Stalker said, simply scoffing as he picked up his pace to follow the others. Despite the heavy snowfall, they could still make out a few foot prints from time to time, and it let them further away from the camp and into the wilderness.
The longer they walked, the colder it became, and an unsettling silence crept in on them, nestling itself in, around and between them. It was so strong; one could almost feel it pressing against the skin, trying to make its way into their hearts and minds.
Crescent led the way, as he was clearly the leader of the group, and he seemed to be skilled in tracking prey. Lilly walked somewhere in the middle, with Bucket in front of her and the odd stallion called Phantom behind her. She didn’t like the idea of having him so close behind her, but was glad that it wasn’t Sawblade instead. Thinking back to what he said back at the inn when he saw her, she dreaded what he might do if he was behind her.
At the end of the line, furthest back of the group, was Duskshine. After his encounter with Phantom, something seemed to had changed about him, and he didn’t say a word as they walked. Lilly was used to hearing him curse and talk about mares, and the almost strained silence he’d taken on worried her a bit.
Eventually, trees began to materialize within the fog, soon followed by rocks, cliffs, frozen bushes and dead branches. Snow and ice covered the landscape around them, the dead trees looking more like ice poles, covered in thin branches without any leaves. They reminded the ponies of the legs of spiders, and they almost felt the thin branches trying to creep after them as they passed.
The forest around them grew thicker, and the cold became sharper, burning their throats as they breathed. Somepony coughed, sending a small wisp of fog sailing through the rest of the group.
“Hold up.”
Crescent’s voice broke the silence that had threatened to shatter them all just moments earlier. The others stopped, taking a moment to look around them. They had stopped on what looked to be an old road, but upon closer inspection, Duskshine could make out the pattern of railroad tracks in the snow.
He looked in both directions, trying to remember where it led, but was interrupted by the voice of Crescent asking him a question.
“Do you know where this leads?”
“Well…” Duskshine began slowly. “If my memory isn’t too fucked, I’d say... we have Canterlot to the west and Baltimare to the east. We came from the north, so it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out which way is which.”
“Hm… The tracks end here… right there on the other side, see?” Crescent said.
“Yeah. As far as I know, there’s nothing but forest past here, and then a river… Doubt he came from there.”
“We don’t know that it’s him.”
“Who else then?” Duskshine whispered back.
Crescent didn’t respond. Duskshine didn’t have time to ask him again, and nopony else from the group had time to react, as the air around them was suddenly filled with arrows flying at them out of nowhere. They hit the ground, forming lines around the group of ponies that instinctively closed in around each other, trying to keep a look out on ever side.
“Bleakers!”
More arrows sailed through the air, and Duskshine wasn’t sure who it was that yelled. The white mist around them seemed to be ripped apart by the black lines of death raining upon them. Somepony yelled out in pain, and he heard the sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath. Upon looking around, he could see that the sound had come from Sawblade that now held his massive claymore clamped firmly between his teeth with a look of determination.
“Stay together, keep close!” The stallion shouted through his gritted teeth.
Duskshine saw Crescent move, and something gleamed like metal around his hooves, and he then pulled the goggle he’d worn on his forehead down over his eyes, pulling the scarf up around his mouth and chin. They were the only ones armed and Duskshine cursed himself for being so stupid for not bringing a weapon with him. Behind him, Lilly, Bucket and Willow huddled close, trying to keep away from the arrows.
He could see Bucket swaying back and forth, an arrow embedded deep into one of his legs. He realized it was the young colt that had yelled as the arrow hit him, and he hoped that the wound wasn’t too bad.
“What the hell do we do now?!” Willow’s voice called out to anyone in the group that would listen.
And then just as suddenly as it had begun, the arrows stopped. The group panted as silence lowered itself upon them, and Crescent, Sawblade and Phantom quickly placed themselves in a protective circle around the others, ready for a quick assault from the enemy. Not even the wind howled anymore, and the tension was pressing down hard upon them.
“Did they… Did they give up?” Bucket whispered from his place within the circle, his voice trembling and weak.
“Bleakers never give up.” Sawblade said back to him. “You’d better get ready to fight or run.”
And as on a given cue, loud shouts tore through the wind, and several shapes came running towards the group through the snow, primitive weapons ready to cut through flesh and shatter bones. All around them, ponies almost as pale as the snow rushed, yelling their battle cries at the top of their lungs.
Instantly, Crescent and Sawblade rushed towards the enemies ranks, ready to fight to the death. Once again, arrows came soaring through the sky, missing the two Stalkers with mere inches. Crescent ducked and weaved forward before planting his back hooves hard into the ground, launching himself forward towards the Bleakers. Sawblade dove to the side, twisting his neck as he did in order to straighten the blade he held.
For Duskshine, the world seemed to slow down as the Stalkers approached the pale ponies. For a second, he could see the gleam of metal around Crescent’s hooves, and finally understood what it was. Blades had been placed around his hooves, held tightly in place with leather bindings and strange contraptions from which the blades sprung out in the blink of an eye.
He saw the sharp edge of Sawblade’s claymore sailing towards the throat of one of the Bleakers, about to slice it open like a warm knife through butter. He saw the arrows coming towards him, painfully slow as they sailed through the air.
Then reality hit him once again, as Crescent landed on top of one of the pale ponies, jabbing both his hoof blades deep into its face. It didn’t even have time to scream, as the metal tore into its brain, killing it instantly. Sawblade’s claymore hit spot on, and a sickening sound filled the air as it cut through skin, muscle, flesh and even bone.
Duskshine could feel his legs tremble slightly as blood sprayed upon the ground, coating both Crescent and Sawblade before they instantly set upon the next pony. They fought like wild savages, yelling and panting as the Bleakers fell to their blades. But no matter how hard they fought and no matter how much blood they spilled, the pale ponies only came closer.
“Crescent, what the fuck do we do?!” Duskshine yelled. “There’s too many of them!”
Crescent didn’t look at him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the enemy for even a second, or he’d be sliced open like a pig. “I-…” He shouted as he stabbed his blades into the throat of his adversary. ”… Run, get out of here!”
Duskshine hesitated, hearing Lilly say something behind her.
“No buts!” Crescent screamed. “Just go!”
Seconds later, they ran through the forest without any knowledge as to where they were headed. They ran in panic, doing as they’d been told. If they hadn’t they would all probably been cut down. Duskshine rushed as fast as he could, weaving back and forth between the thin birch trees that surrounded him. He could hear panting and wheezing close by, and he hoped they belonged to the Stalkers of one of the kids, but his mind told him they might as well be that of the Bleakers.
As he emerged from the treeline, a river came into his view. It was covered by a layer of ice, but further up the stream there was nothing but gushing water. He headed towards it, hoping he could lose the pursuers within the chilling depths of the river.
As he came closer, he could see the silhouettes of a few ponies emerging from the treeline up ahead. Thankfully it was Just Lilly and Willow, but before he could catch up to them they’d rushed out on the ice. Neither of them had any idea if it was thick enough to carry their weight, but the panicked situation had caused them to thrown away any and all caution.
He ran past them, his eyes fixed on the water ahead. Branches cracked close by, and angered yells reached his ears. He picked up pace, still certain he could feel the Bleakers breathing down his neck.
Something hit his shoulder hard. He felt it sink deep into his flesh, and the impact caused him to ricochet to the side. A split second later, he heard the distinct sound of cracking ice followed by terrified yells.
His body hit the water, and he felt himself drift away.
A scream of fear escaped Lilly’s lips as she felt the ice beneath her hooves crack under her weight. She stopped running and instead skidded clumsily across the ice, trying to keep her balance at the same time. The sounds of battle still ringed all around her, and as she spun around on the ice she caught a glimpse of Duskshine running up the stream on the shore from which she and Willow had just come from.
Behind him, Bleakers came running with crude axes and spears that seemed to be made out of ice, and they gleamed slightly as they waved them furiously in the air, as if they thought they could still hit him from so far away. They yelled and roared, and arrows blew past them from bows hidden somewhere within the trees.
No more than a second later, Willow skidded over the ice past her, frantically kicking and flailing about. If not for the situation they were in, he would have looked rather comical, but now it just seemed terrifying to her, as a fall here could mean certain death. Lilly reached out and tried to grab him as he passed, but he slipped out of her grip and slid away across the surface of the ice.
To her right further down the stream, she could see something moving in the water, clambering to the edge of the ice. A massive sword rested just a few feet away, but Sawblade was unable to pull himself out of the water, and his frantic kicking only made it more difficult. She saw the big, menacing stallion sink down, his hooves still thrashing around above the surface before they too disappeared out of sight.
Bucket came running out of the treeline, limping on one leg where the arrow had hit him. A trial of blood followed in his wake as he pushed himself out on the ice. After just a few steps, he lost balance and fell over on his side, and a cracking sound reached her ears as he landed on the arrow and broke it. The scrawny pony screamed in agony as it moved around within the wound, causing more blood to leak unto the ice.
Even though she wanted to help them both, Lilly couldn’t run back across the ice and risk breaking through, or run straight into the arms of the pale ponies on the shore. The only thing she could do was hope that they would manage to get out themselves.
She once again turned her gaze to Duskshine, just in time to see one of the many arrows fly in a perfect arc straight towards him. Even before it happened, she understood it would hit him. The unicorn couldn’t do anything else than scream.
“Duskshine, look out!”
But her screams fell upon death ears, drowned by the rumbling of the horde of Bleakers, as well as the sound of cracking ice and more screams behind her. She saw the arrow hit Duskshine’s shoulder, instantly sending him tumbling to the side like some sort of filthy ragdoll. The screaming behind her stopped suddenly.
She saw Duskshine roll across the shoreline before falling off the edge. He hit the murky waters beneath without making a sound, and he instantly disappeared underneath the surface.
"NO!"
Her heart stopped, and the world around her went completely quiet and still. Nothing moved, and nothing could be heard expect her own breathing. Her vision begun to blur, and she felt her legs wobble slightly.
“Lilly, over here!”
She snapped out of her trance as Crescent’s voice called out to her from somewhere nearby. Spinning around, she could see a big hole in the ice right around where Willow would have ended up just a few seconds ago. He wasn’t there, only the black abyss opening up to the cold water. With nothing else to do, she kept on running.
The ice made cracking sounds beneath her hooves, but she couldn’t stop or slow down, or she’d be dead from either an arrow or the cold waiting just beyond the ice. She could see Crescent standing a few meters away, clambering to the top of what looked to be a big rock covered in ice. She hoped they would be safe upon it.
Crescent had his leg stretched out for her, and as she felt the ice break beneath her, she pushed herself forward through the air. For a moment, the sounds of the Bleakers got drowned out by the deafening sound of the ice breaking into shards all around them. The mare grabbed the Stalkers hoof in mid-air, but couldn’t break her fall, causing her body to slam into the rock with a painful thud.
Pain coursed through her from the impact, but it was instantly pushed aside by the sensation of water so cold it burned her skin like hot blades. The ice on the river had shattered all around them, and shards as sharp as razors streamed down towards them. All she could do was to squint her eyes shut hard as she clamped herself on Crescent’s hoof, holding it in a vice-like grip.
More burning shards slid across her hind legs, cutting into her skin like knifes. Lilly’s legs kicked involuntarily, her body wanting to get away from the pain but her mind refusing to react. Inside her head, she could see the body of Duskshine washed up on the shore, soaked to the bone and shredded by the ice that roared around her. The image almost made her want to let go.
Still with her eyes closed, she could feel her body move upwards as Crescent moved back, pulling her up on the rock next to him. The ice covering the top of it didn’t even feel cold against her skin anymore; she’d already gone numb from the water. She couldn’t feel her hind legs, or the pain from the amounts of cuts she’d gained. Without a word or sound, Lilly fell down upon the rock, limp like a boned fish and unable to move another muscle ever again.
At least, that’s what it felt like to her, the numbness and pain brought on by not only the ice, but also by watching what might have been the final seconds of Duskshine’s life.
“Hey! Hey come on, get up!”
Crescent’s voice rang in her ears; sounding foreign to her, like they were underwater and it distorted his words into sounds from another world.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Lilly!”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. The Stalker filled her vision, standing over her and looking down on her with worry in his eyes, hidden behind his goggles. Wind tugged hard on his mane and scarf, and his ears lay almost flat against his head.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack, followed by deep rumbling and what felt like vibration within the rock she laid upon. Crescent’s eyes shot open as he felt the rumbling under his hooves.
“… What was that?” Lilly whispered up to him.
He didn’t answer. In the blink of an eye, the stallion threw himself over her, pinning her down against the ice. Lilly instantly panicked and tried to writhe her way free, but he held her down with more force then she’d ever believed him capable of possessing. The skin on his belly felt like burning coals as it pressed down on her back, and she wiggled back and forth to try and get away from it.
“Stop moving and cover your eyes!”
Another loud crack reached her ears. Then she felt the rock move under her.
Lilly understood then that he was holding her down because he’d already realized what just dawned on her; it wasn’t a rock, it was only a massive block of ice, and it had now broken lose and was about to follow the current down the river, still with them on it.
Water splashed over her face and body, chilling her even more than she thought possible. Her body trembled, and the warmth of Crescent slowly faded away. She opened her eyes for just a second, and caught a glimpse of the shoreline, where the Bleakers still pursued them, galloping at full speed next to the water. Even if the block of ice stopped, they would await them as soon as they got out of the river.
“What happened to the others?” Crescent shouted into her ears to make himself heard over the sound of the streaming water.
“I don’t know, I think they might be de-” Lilly’s jaw was shaking and it made it hard for her to talk properly, and her teeth clamped themselves together tight, rattling slightly from the immense cold.
“Don’t you even dare say that, girl!”
The currents of the river tossed them back and forth across the river surface, and they did their best to hold on as the block of ice smashed into other bigger shards of ice and debris, even as water sprayed over their trembling bodies. They couldn’t do anything else than just press themselves down onto the ice and hope that it didn’t topple and throw them into the darkness beneath.
Lilly lost track of how long had passed since they began moving. Her entire body had gone numb, and she was sure that nothing but her head remained, which felt like it was split in two due to the headache that the cold had brought upon her. Crescent no longer seemed to care about pinning her down, and several times his hooves slapped her across the face as the block of ice careened across the water.
She wanted to give up. The pain was too strong, and she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted out. But she couldn’t move, and her wish to just jump off into the water remained unfulfilled, no matter how hard she tried to move.
Another hard hit and Crescent slid off of her. He wasn’t moving anymore, and his chest wasn’t raising and lowering itself. Lilly wondered if he was dead, but couldn’t move to check on him. Her mind was just as blank as his eyes, staring at her.
“… cres… Crescent…?” Her voice was frail and broken, and her throat felt like it was full of ice and smoke.
He didn’t respond, didn’t make any sort of sign whatsoever that he’d heard her.
Up ahead she could see the river turning and a large cliff at the shoreline approaching faster and faster the closer it got. She wanted to scream, wanted to grab Crescent and jump, save themselves from the crushing edges of the cliff.
In a sudden outburst of adrenaline, she could feel warmth coursing through her body, like the sweetest waves of pleasure. It calmed her nerves, soothed her skin, and without understanding how she did it, she bent her legs and slowly stood up, still trembling slightly. She took one step forward, hitting her hoof against Crescent’s stomach by mistake as she did.
The unicorn panted heavily as she desperately tried to wake the Stalker up, pushing at his face with her snout and shouting, though it came out like broken whispers. She tried whatever she could to wake him up; kicked him, nudged him, bit down on his ear and licked his face, but nothing made him move.
She fell down on her knees once again, the short moments of pumping adrenaline gone, and the chilling numbness and pain once again taking back its grip over her body. All she could do was to aim herself so that she laid down close to the stallion in a final attempt to protect him, just like he’d done to her.
Her head rested on the side against the cold ice, but she didn’t feel it. The cliff came closer every second, and her mind raced with thoughts. She didn’t want to die here, not like this. She wanted to die old, together with whatever stallion that wanted to be with her. She wanted to die, knowing she was loved. Not like this, frozen and broken like a brittle porcelain vase.
It would all end any second. Before she closed her eyes, she could see a tiny puff of pale smoke rising from Crescent’s scarf, right around where his mouth would be.
A few seconds later the block of ice smashed straight into the cliff, sending both Crescent and Lilly sailing through the air. Wind blew hard around her, tugging on her like it wanted to grab hold of her from every direction, hold her back and save her from the inevitable death. She saw the Stalker hit the rock back first, before it approached her face.
A forest grew up around her, birch trees sprouted up towards the sky with leaves green as emeralds. The grass around her hooves swayed lightly in the breeze, creating the image of waves across a vast green ocean. The breeze gently stroked her chin, and Lilly closed her eyes and smiled. As she opened them again, the sun was high in the sky, spreading its rays through the leaves above her.
Lilly sighed contently at the sight, and took a deep breath. Her nostrils got filled with the smell of the forest around her. The smell of fresh sap from the trees, the smell of grass beneath her hooves. And above all else, that special undetermined smell of sun and summer. The thick smell that always accompanies the warmth of the summer months. Sometimes so strong it burns your throat, the same way it freezes in the winter.
Like you’re quite literally breathing the rays of the sun, feeling it fill your lungs and sending surges of happiness throughout your veins.
And as Lilly observed the beautiful nature around her, with the ever-growing chirping of birds in the distance, that feel of radiant happiness slowly grew into an almost orgasmic blissfulness that coated her mind like waves washing over a perfect shore, caressing the part of her one might refer to as soul. She allowed her mind to bask in this harmonic heaven of green, and her body sank down into the grass beneath her, the many straws stroking against her soft, blue fur.
With another deep sigh she leaned on her side and rolled around on her back. The soft grass tickled her back and a few seeds flew up into the air above her as her tail and mane brushed by a few dandelions dotting the green ground. A strand of white hair entered her vision and covered her left eye. Not wanting to move, she tried to blow it out of her eye with her breath, and after a few attempts her mane disappeared from her sight.
Lilly…
The rays of the sun faded slowly as a black object floated in from nowhere and covered it. Eventually, nothing but a black spot with a golden rim around it remained. Just looking at it made her feel intoxicated.
Lilly…
Suddenly, her body felt warm, getting warmer by the second. Her skin vibrated and her ears perked as if they’d heard something that she herself could not fathom. Lilly rolled around in the grass, believing the warmth to be nothing but the result of staying in the sun for too long. But the warmth didn’t go away, it only grew.
The unicorn stood up slowly, her legs stiff and sore. She drew in another breath as she stretched her legs, but something felt wrong with the air that entered her nostrils. She couldn’t smell the flowers anymore. Something burned her snout as she inhaled it, causing her to cough, feeling her throat burn the same way.
Smoke.
All around her, the beautiful and lush forest had caught fire. The leaves of the oaks and birch trees smouldered, their jagged edges glowing brightly as embers flew around them in the wind. The tree trunks had turned black, and the grass beneath her hooves has been reduced to ashes.
You should have saved me.
Duskshine rose up from underneath the ashes before her. The grey dust of charred trees flowed off of his body like waterfall, stirring up clouds of smoke as it hit the ground. His voice was raspy and devoid of any life, sounding like he was just reading a line from a script. Unnatural.
Lilly was paralyzed to do anything as the dirty stallion came closer; his skin stretching over his bones like it was too tight, threatening to burst any minute. She could see his ribs clearly as his skin strained around them, and his jaw rattled slightly as he yet again spoke to her with his hollow voice.
Why didn’t you save me, Lilly? I thought you cared for me.
Before her eyes, Duskshine began trembling. His entire body twitched beyond control as the spasms grew. Suddenly, his eyeballs lit up bright as sunshine, just moments before they burst into flames, green flames burning like the forest around them.
The skin on his bones started moving, pulsating as it boiled itself from the inside. Unable to scream or move, Lilly was forced to watch bubbles build up and burst in the skin of her friend, forced to watch as his eyes finally popped from the immense heat eating away at them.
Then, she felt the warmth inside her own body build up, move into her head.
Her vision disappeared in a sudden outburst of green flames.
A loud banging noise filled Lilly’s ears as she slowly opened her eyes. At first she almost thought she’d gone blind due to the pitch blackness and blurriness of her vision, but then realized her eyes was just adjusting to the lack of sunlight around her. Before she could see her surroundings, she was almost convinced that the banging sound was her neighbors going at it again, and she was back home in her bed.
Except the hard and cold surface she rested on effectively erased that somewhat comforting illusion. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know where she actually was.
The banging noise didn’t stop, instead becoming louder as more time passed. Slowly, her eyes adjusted themselves, and after a while she could see the lines of what appeared to be bars in front of her, like in a cell. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was dead, locked away forever in the depths of whatever awaited her.
Lilly blinked, and saw a movement in the corner of her eye.
Moving her head slowly, she could see something or somepony sitting next to the bars just a few inches away from here. Another blink, and red fur became visible in the dank room. Then the colours of the rainbow decorating a filthy, unkempt mane.
It was Willow, half sitting, half lying down, his side resting against the wall, and one of his hooves banging against the bars. From what little that Lilly could see of the Pegasus, he looked even worse than he did when she met him. If he looked like a moping willow before, he now looked like the charred remains of that willow.
His eyes tired, staring off into nothingness as he kept on hitting the bars they were held behind. His wings hanging freely off of his body, spread out on the floor, his wings hanging freely off of his body, spread out on the floor in a way that Lilly thought looked painful.
It was at this point that Lilly first began to wonder where they were. She’d been so occupied with trying to make anything out in the darkness that she didn’t even realize what was actually going on. They were held prisoner for some reason, but she had no idea by whom.
Lilly rolled around on the floor, whimpering quietly as her snout hit against a wall right next to her.
“Lilly, was that you? Are you awake?”
The whisper came quietly to her from somewhere within the darkness, calling to her with a worried town behind its words. A voice she knew all too well, and her heart stopped.
“… Duskshine?”
Images of the stallion filled her mind. A broken, feral stallion covered in ashes.
“Are you hurt?” The voice of Duskshine asked her, sounding almost the same way as it had done in her dreams.
“I… I don’t think so.” Lilly whispered. “Am I dead…?”
If Duskshine answered or not, Lilly couldn’t hear it. The searing sound of metal dragging against metal filled her ears, causing her to grimace from the pain it brought her. A light tore through the darkness as a door opened nearby, its metal frame screeching loudly against the floor. The rays of bright light blinded Lilly, causing her to raise a hoof to cover her eyes.
Over the top of her hoof, she could see the silhouette of a pony entering the door, but the light made it impossible to distinguish any other features. Surrounded by the rays of light, it almost looked like an angel, sent to take them away from this cold, dark place. But Lilly knew better, it was more likely their captor.
“Whatever you do, missy, don’t move.” Duskshine whispered.
The moment the beams of light touched upon Willow’s body, he sprung to life, banging harder on the bars, yelling for the pony in the door. It didn’t answer his calls and simply just walked towards them in silence, still cloaked by the light behind it. It approached Willow, looking down upon him from its place on the other side. For a few seconds, Willow stopped and silence lowered itself over the group.
Then the pony reached inside the bars towards him. Lilly lay still on her side, not moving an inch just like Duskshine had told her. But she wanted to move. Wanted to get up and help as the pony wrapped its hooves around Willow’s neck and squeezed it hard, causing the Pegasus so cough and wheeze, struggling to get away.
Willow toppled backwards unto the floor as the pony let go of him, laughing at the panting stallion.
The sound of hooves against stone echoed loudly as the pony turned around and walked towards the door without another sound. Willow still tried to catch his breath on the floor, wheezing and panting. Slowly the door slid shut again, the rays of light narrowing down into a small line across the floor.
Before the door slammed shut completely, Lilly caught sight of something in that tiny stream of light.
A large nail, coated in a thick layer of rust and dirt.
Droplets of blood fell slowly into a building puddle on the floor. It was dripping from a small ledge, on which a pale stallion known as a Bleaker lay, its throat slit from ear to ear. Next to him, several other ponies had met the same fate, the crimson content of their bodies spilled over the floor. There wasn’t any signs of a struggle, and they all looked like they’d just died where they stood, killed by some invisible force.
The windows of the room they lay in had but one single spray of blood, covering up the skyline of buildings that could be seen on the other side, and the rising sun on the horizon. Beneath the window another Bleaker had fallen, his body covered in stab wounds and blood. Clearly, he was the only one that had put up a fight, one that he ultimately lost and had to pay the ultimate prize. Now his eyes had become white as they rolled into the back of his head.
Next to him there was a doorway leading into a narrow hallway. On the door the word “Offices” had been printed in metallic letters, and several more doors adorned with numbers littered the right side of the hallway, with windows on the left. After this came another room, one that looked different from the other one.
No bodies rested on the floor, but everything in the room had been torn to shreds or shattered by the fight that had just taken place therein. A long trail of blood led across the floor over to one of the corners of the room, and broken breathing could be heard.
A Bleaker rested its back against the wall in the corner, still breathing, but just barely.
He never even heard his friends die. He never saw the pony that did it, other than the swift movements of a white figure, a ghost bringing nothing but death. The Bleaker coughed loudly, blood spurting out between his teeth and over his stomach. He had a dagger buried deep into his chest, and knew that his life would soon be over.
A normal pony in a normal world might be thinking about family and loved ones in their dying breath. Perhaps they would think of choices they could have made differently, or their most precious memories of their children or perhaps a best friend. But this wasn’t a normal world anymore, and a pale pony knows nothing but anger and agony.
Feeling blood ooze out of his wound, all he could think about was bashing in the skull of whoever had done this to him. He wanted to hear the pony scream in pain, wanted to feel the blood-soaked fur against his hooves. Wanted to feel the crack underneath him as he broke through into the brain.
Slowly, his vision faded, and he felt something warm build up on the floor around his hind legs, along with a sense of relief within him. He blinked tiredly, feeling himself slip away into death’s embrace.
The last thing he saw was a pair of dark violet eyes behind a shining white hood.
Crescent’s body ached, his muscles feeling like he’d been running for hours on end. His throat was sore and raspy from all his screaming, and his chest burned due to the excessive breathing he had to force himself into. His hind legs felt like big blocks of lead pulling him down, threatening to rip him apart at the middle like some discarded old ragdoll.
Even though he wanted to move, he couldn’t. His front hooves had been firmly clamped in iron shackles, and he’d been strung up in metal chains from the ceiling above. He felt like he’d reached his breaking point.
He only vaguely remembered how he ended up in chains. As the pain coursing through him forced him to stay awake, more of what had happened earlier became clear in his head. He remembered being ambushed, running. Remembered the river and how he pressed Lilly down underneath himself to protect her.
After that, nothing but darkness and coldness.
A few fragments of spoken words echoed through his mind, as well as a few fading images of ponies, the feel of being dragged and hoisted about. His skin crawling. Then hot water hit his entire body and dragged him out into consciousness yet again. The water synched his fur and burned his skin like hot pokers.
The Stalker let out a deep guttural scream as the pain took control of his every limb and muscle.
His body bruised and broken from the violence that it had been subjected to, all he wanted t do was to go to sleep and be rid of the pain. Wanted to pass out before the pale ponies around him continued their torture. Wanted to get away from the humiliation of having to look into the eyes of the Bleakers that had saved his life by the river, only to cause him more pain.
But that pain wouldn’t let him go to sleep. It pressed into his skull like knives, forcing him to stay awake and suffer through the torment.
He was a strong stallion, and had never begged for his life or asked for mercy for as long as he remembered wandering this frozen new Equestria. Not once did he shed a tear, not even when a Bleaker had directed its punches against his private parts. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of crying.
But finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and let himself fall into nothingness. He sobbed and wept like a foal, snot building up and cluttering his nostrils making it difficult to breathe properly. He didn’t care anymore, and he could just barely hear the questions he was being asked through the ringing sound in his ears.
“What… were… you doing in our land?” Crescent could barely make out the words, but he nevertheless understood the question.
He tried to open his mouth and speak, but his jaw hurt too much to move any longer duration of time. “We… Tracked… Killed our friends…” He wheezed slowly without moving his lips.
Crescent knew all too well what they would do to him once they had their little fun with him, and there wasn’t any point in trying to hide anything or trying to barter with them. Either way, he was already as good as dead, and he had no choice but to answer their questions in hopes of being spared any more pain.
“Killed your friends?” The voice said, and for a moment Crescent was sure he was back on the river, getting swallowed by the cold waters. It sounded so distant, distorted. He hoped death was near.
“Some…. Creature…” He panted under his breath, barely able to speak coherently. “… Tore… to pieces… tracks… led us…”
“Tell me, Stalker, what was this creature?”
Crescent didn’t answer.
When he didn’t, the Bleaker interrogating him grew angry, and not a second later he felt a hoof connect sharply with the left side of his jaw. Despite being numb, he could still feel the impact, the pain it brought, and the way it tossed his entire head to the other side.
Crescent moaned in pain, feeling something rattle inside his mouth. He let his jaw drop, and something fell to the floor beneath him with a sharp clank. He could feel warm blood drop from his lips, but couldn’t do anything about it. His head was already spinning.
“What was it?” The Bleaker asked again, this time louder, landing another hit straight upon Crescent’s face.
“… I don’t… know.” Crescent whispered once his head had become still after the punch. “Walked… Upright… Red… red.”
Through the painful haze, he could hear more voices whisper around him, clearly reacting to his words. He couldn’t hear what they said, and it remained just a whisper and a mumbling.
Suddenly, he could feel somepony's breath against his face. For some reason, it had come up closer to him.
“Red?” The voice asked, merely inches away from his bruised and bloodied up face. “Red what?”
Crescent strained himself to answer, feeling the shackles around his hooves almost getting tighter as he spoke.
“… Magic.”
The voices around him became agitated, talking loudly but he still couldn’t hear what they said. The pony in his face scoffed loudly and removed itself from him. He could hear hoof steps against stone, followed by more anxious words. Even though it was impossible to make out any coherent sentences of what they said, Crescent still heard one simple word spoken over and over again. One simple word, that he had no idea what it meant.
Slowly, the murmuring died away. He could still hear breathing all around him, but not a word was said. Then suddenly, he felt something smash against his ribs, something hard. He yelled in agony as the impact sent him reeling backwards, the chains rattling loudly as he swayed freely in them. He cried as the shackles that held him bore even deeper into his legs.
Hoof steps yet again filled the room, but they became fainter as if they were walking away. Crescent couldn’t understand it or even register it, the pain in his body was too great and his mind had momentarily shut itself down to protect him. He didn’t hear a door open, and didn’t hear the last word that somepony spoke before leaving the room. The same word he’d heard repeated over and over just a few seconds ago.
A strange word. One that was foreign even to him.
Like a whisper, the sound of the word traveled across the room of its own free will, echoing loudly against the walls.
Thanatos.
A faint blue light spread across the floor of the small cell. Within the light, a rusty old nailed moved slightly, being dragged over the floor towards the source of the light; Lilly’s horn. She had to work slowly so as to not cause any loud noises that could let their captors know of what she was doing. Her magic was weak from her demoralised state, and she couldn’t even lift the nail off the floor.
Even if she could, she didn’t want to risk dropping it.
And then finally, after what felt like hours of arduous work, the nail was in her grasp, it was small but narrow, pointy enough to cause at least some amount of damage. The rust could serve as additional injury, she though.
“What are you going to do with it?” Willow whispered, still rubbing his sore throat.
“Whatever I have to.” Lilly responded sharply, even though she wasn’t even sure she had what it took to attack, let alone hurt, somepony.
She leaned herself backwards, resting her back against the cold wall. Something wet ran down it and soaked into her fur, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She reached up and touched her mane. Her hat had disappeared in the river, that one last memory of Applebloom flushed away in the icy waters, never to be found again. The top of her head felt strangely empty without it. Her cloak had gone off too, but she hoped that maybe the Bleakers took it once they got them out of the water and bought them to… whatever the hay this place was.
Carefully, the unicorn buried the nail deep within her white mane. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it was all she had. Once she was done she let her hooves fall down, and she let them rest over her stomach. It took a slight movement and a low growl within her to make her realize just how starving she actually was.
“I’m hungry too…” Duskshine whispered, having obviously heard her rumbling stomach. “But I don’t think we’ll ever eat again, missy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re all going to die here.” Duskshine’s voice was eerily calm, and it made Lilly feel uneasy. Again, the dream came back into her mind. He sounded like he was reading a script.
“No, I’m getting us out of here.” Lilly Said back to him.
Duskshine chuckled slightly. “Oh yes, I’m sure a nail is going to be of so much use, missy. You know what Bleakers do to you.”
Lilly nodded slightly, remembering rumours of charred remains of ponies, or bodies partially eaten. They did what they had to do to survive, even though it made her skin crawl.
“What… what do they do?” Willow asked from his place in the corner. He’d been quiet up to that point, but he didn’t move as he talked. He just sat on his haunches with his side against the wall, watching the door through the darkness.
“You don’t know?” Duskshine said. “Have you been living under a rock all your life?”
Willow sighed deeply at the question. “With my father, on a small farm back west. We mostly kept to ourselves, dad didn’t trust outsiders.”
“Bleakers love inflicting pain unto others.” Duskshine whispered, not taking any notice of Willow’s answer. “They beat you, torture you. If you’re a mare they’ll probably rape you into the dirt too. Then they chop you up and eat you, unless they’re in a hurry. I once heard a story about a group of Bleakers that captured a young mare and had their way with her one by one.”
Lilly felt her stomach turn.
“And they ate her at the same time.” Duskshine finished.
Willow didn’t say anything, clearly the answer had shut him up.
The unicorn mare sighed. “How can you be so calm?” She asked Duskshine. “You know all of this, yet you’re not even afraid?”
“I’m not afraid to die.”
“… I am.” Willow whispered meekly from the floor.
“I’ve lived a long life.” Duskshine continued. “It has been good and bad, and I’ve seen my fair share of friends come and go. Seen a fair share of mares come too. But if it is my time to go, then there’s nothing to do to change that. Best not to keep the Sisters waiting.”
The stallion fell silent as the sound of clanking metal could be heard from the door to the room. The sound of a key turning around in the look, followed by what sounded by the rattling of chains. Then the door slowly slid open once again, and the pale pony from before came back into the room. Lilly hoped in vain that he’d brought them something to eat.
The pony walked up to the bars, a ring with keys rattling between his teeth. It seemed he hadn’t noticed that the nail on the floor was gone.
“You there; Pegasus.” He commanded. “You’re to come with me.”
Willow shied away into the corner, remembering what happened the last time he came too close to the Bleaker. “No way I’m going anywhere with you.” He hissed.
“Fine, we can do this the hard way.” The stallion answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
He reached up to the keys and scrambled through them a couple of seconds before deciding on one of them. It looked old and rusted, and Lilly almost expected it to either break apart of get stuck in the lock. It didn’t however, and the rusted bars slid open, allowing the pale pony inside.
It happened fast, and neither Lilly nor Duskshine had time to get up. The Bleaker kicked Willow hard on the side of his ribs, causing the young Pegasus to yelp in pain. He kicked again before reaching down and clamping his teeth hard around the edge of his tail, pulling the nod crying Willow out of the cell.
Lilly couldn’t take sitting idly by anymore, and rushed to her hooves.
“Let go off him!” She yelled and threw herself over the stallion in what she believed was high enough speed to toss him to the ground.
She was wrong.
It took only a few seconds for Lilly to fall on her face on the floor and the Bleaker to let go of Willow’s tail. He kicked against the Pegasus again, forcing him backwards into the cell. The door slammed shut, and Lilly was all alone on the outside with the now furious Bleaker.
She stood up, straining her legs and placing herself in a defensive position.
“You got a big mouth for such a small girl.” The Bleaker hissed, gritting his teeth. “Maybe we should put it to good use?”
In an instant, he was on her. He threw punch after punch against her body, and Lilly couldn’t do much than do her best to avoid the hardest hits. She wasn’t strong by any means, but still managed to get in a few hits against his face, though the stallion hardly flinched.
She found herself cornered by the Bleaker, desperately looking for a way out. Without any other options, she tried to trick her way out by faking a dash to the right. It didn’t work, only causing the stallion to end up with his rear close to her face.
He grinned with glee as he bucked his hind legs hard into Lilly’s face.
The unicorn fell to the floor, blood seeping out of her mouth and ears ringing like church bells. In the distance, she could hear voices calling out to her, and she though they belonged to Duskshine and Willow on the other side of the bars.
Something sharp clamped down on the skin of her neck, pulling her to the side and unto her back. It pierced through her skin and caused blood to drop down her neck. Teeth.
Her vision seemed to be coated by a thin layer of water as the world around her moved slowly, distorted and strange. She could see the stallion above her, and his filthy yellow teeth gritted in a devilish smile. Then he took a step forward, over her head.
“Time to shut you up, you little whore.”
It took her a few seconds to realize what he was about to do, and her heart that had been racing until then seemed to stop. Once she caught sight of the stallion’s member coming closer to her face, she was sure that he was going to do it. He wasn’t holding her down, probably thinking she was too dizzy to actually offer up any resistance.
He realized his mistake too late.
Lilly quickly reached up into her mane and pulled out the nail, and with a loud yell she jabbed it straight up into the Bleaker’s belly. Before he had time to move, Lilly rolled around beneath him, ready to get up and finish the job. But her face bumbed against something cold on the floor, something that rattled.
The keys.
She quickly picked them up in her teeth, the agonising cries of pain from the Bleaker still ringing behind her. Rushing towards the cell, she fidgeted fast with the many keys, trying to remember which one it was. Seeing no other choice, she tried as many as she could in the lock. Once the lock gave in at her fifth attempt, something heavy lifted itself from her shoulders.
Willow and Duskshine rushed through the bars towards the door with Lilly behind them. Before they left, Duskshine kicked the Bleaker dead on in the temple, and he passed out from the impact.
The light on the other side of the door was blinding to their eyes as they finally opened it.
“You can’t do this, you bastards!”
A harsh, deep voice echoed through the darkness, a raspy tone coated the words as they bounced from wall to wall. There wasn’t any answer to the angered voice, only the sound of rattling chains as the owner of it flailed around in their attempts to get free of the shackles.
It rang sharply through Sawblade’s ears, banging on his eardrums like the hooves of a madpony upon an innocent skull. He growled and shouted into the air, thrashing his limbs back and forth, gritting his teeth in anger. His body trembled, but not of fear for the torture he would surely be subjected to, or the pain it would inflict, but rather anger coursing under his skin.
Pure rage, nothing more. He wanted to get lose, to get out and snap the neck of every breathing pony that got in his way. Find the ones that put him here and beat them into oblivion.
The more he screamed and yelled, the more soar his throat became, but he could care less. Had he been somewhat calm he would’ve been able to relax and lock the rage away, just like he taught himself years ago, but at the moment it was impossible. The anger consumed him from the inside, turned him into nothing but a beast in chains.
Throughout his life, Sawblade always had trouble controlling his feelings, especially his anger, and it had put him in a lot of unpleasant situations over the years. Most of the time harmless arguments or fights over some petty insult or somepony giving him a strange look. It had always been him that threw the first punch, usually with broken teeth or black eyes as a result.
Despite getting help from his friends to hold back, it was always a constant struggle to not give in to anger and violence. Yet it wasn’t enough sometimes. One too many times had he snapped out of his trance, blood coating his hooves and face. One too many times.
The stallion became quiet for just a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. It was enough time for him to register another sound nearby. Several loud bangs rang through the walls, accompanied by what he thought to be muffled cries. Then it all stopped as a sudden, loud screeching sound reached his ears, sounding like the edge of a knife pulled against metal.
He began shouting once again as he heard a door open nearby. From his place on his back, chained down to what he believed to be a table, he couldn’t see anything apart from the ceiling as a faint light spread across the walls.
“Show yourself!” He shouted to whoever had just entered the room. “Show yourself and I’ll rip your throat out!”
He could hear the sound of hooves lightly tapping across the floor, as well as something else, something soft, like cloth against stone. It came closer, and he could hear quiet breathing right next to him. Now that he remained still, his body reminded him of the pain from the metal chains clamping down over his limbs.
“Be silent, Sawblade.” A smooth, almost silky voice suddenly whispered in his left ear. “They can’t hear you from beyond.”
Sawblade instantly knew who it was.
“Just shut up and get me out of here:” He whispered back, trying to control his breathing and calm down. His heart felt like it was about to explode inside his chest as the adrenaline faded away ever so slowly.
The shackles binding him snapped with a loud crack, and he felt the distinct tingling sensation of magic in their place. Before the sounds of rattling chains had gone quiet, Sawblade had thrown himself to his feet and looked around, still trying to control himself. On the opposite side of the table head been lying on stood a pale figure, dressed from head to hoof in a white cloak and hood. Sawblade slowly nodded thanks.
“Have... you seen the others? He said between deep breaths.
Phantom shook his head in response.
“Are they dead?”
“I do not know.” Phantom whispered slowly, his horn emitting a weak light as he did.
Without another word, Sawblade made his way towards the door. As he came closer to it, he could see a long thin line torn straight through it, and a few drops of blood beneath it. Once he stepped around it and saw beyond it, his mind pieced it together with the sound he’d heard just moments before, and it became clear what had happened.
Outside, blood had pooled around a bleak pony, one that was obviously dead. A fresh cut adorned its throat, so deep that it had almost severed the stallions head. Sawblade stepped over the body, trying not to look too much at the wound; he could see something white within the crimson flesh, and his mind told him it was bone. The spine. As he stepped over the mangled pony, he could feel the fading warmth of life touch his belly. It couldn’t have been dead for more than just a few seconds.
Further down the hallway that stretched out before him several other dead bodies lay scattered in their own blood, like ragdolls thrown into the trash. The smell of steel and death permeated the air.
Phantom had been nothing but thorough in clearing the way of Bleakers.
There was nothing but pain. Stronger pain than he had ever felt in his entire life, stronger than anything he could ever even dream of. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead, and the pain was his body being punished for its sins. Then again, what sins? The shadow that killed his friends clearly stated that there was no sin to be found within him. Yet he felt like he was a sinner, simply by being who he was.
Incredibly slowly, his body aching with every inch, Bucket raised his head, whimpering from the pain.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a tree. A spruce, old and weathered, the dark bark covered in a layer of purest white snow. Its branches hanging low, looking like they would snap any moment due to the weight of the ice upon them.
So he wasn’t dead. Bucket wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not.
He tried to move his legs to stand up, but they felt numb, probably a result from falling into the river earlier. One moment he was running for his life, the sound of hooves clanking against ice beating down on his eardrums like a battering ram. The next, everything had gone cold and dark as the ice gave way beneath him.
Yet somehow, he’d survived. He didn’t drown, didn’t freeze to death, and didn’t get smashed into a cliff hiding just out of sight in the murky waters. He was still alive. Perhaps it was a miracle that he was still breathing, Bucket couldn’t tell.
The thin little stallion pushed against the ground with his fore legs and rolled over on his back, his stomach and groin had gone numb from the cold, and he had no idea how long he’d been laying there. He had to move, didn’t want to risk hypothermia. He rubbed his hooves against his chest and stomach to try and get a little bit of warmth flowing through him from the friction.
He would give anything for the warm embrace of another stallion.
Another stallion.
Bucket sat up straight, sprung up from the ground in an instant as the thought hit him. Another stallion. Stallions. A mare. His friends. What had happened to them? In his head, images of Crescent’s body mangled and bruised appeared. Crescent impaled on a spike. Crescent gutted and dismembered, drowned and cold. That young mare that had helped him earlier, raped by Bleakers and killed.
He whimpered meekly at his thoughts, but hoped dearly that they were unharmed and well somewhere out there. Hoped that nothing bad had come to the, hoped that at the very least, Crescent would still be alive. He prayed in silence that he would be, hoping that the king and queen of old would yet hear him, hear his plead for help. His prayers to not be left alone.
After a few more minutes of silent wishes, Bucket managed to stand up on his hooves, albeit with a slight sway. His body still trembled, and whether it was due to the cold or not, he couldn’t tell. Instantly he looked around himself to get some sort of bearing or clue as to where he’d ended up, but all he could see was more Spruce trees on one side, and the cold river on the over. The water here rushed so fast that it couldn’t freeze just yet, it seemed. He thought that was a good thing, seeing the jets of water spouting around some rocks out in the water.
If that had been ice, he would’ve been smashed against it, and probably floating somewhere downstream, cold and dead, not standing on shoreline. Feeling like he was just that; cold and dead.
Still, he had to get out of here, had to move. If the Bleakers found him here, they would probably kill him in the blink of an eye. He could run into a pack of dire wolfs, or Wraiths, or.. Banshees. He wasn’t even sure if he believed the tales of those pale, demonic ponies with their ice-curdling shrieks and dead eyes, but the thought of such a creature even existing made him tremble even more. Had to move, had to get out of there.
Back at the fireplace, back when his friends was still alive, Red had been telling stories of the Banshees, stories that terrified him. Bucket was now sure that if he hadn’t been so scared by Red’s words, he would’ve never noticed the shadow, and he’d been ripped apart as well with the rest of his friends.
Maybe it was for the best to be constantly afraid in a world such as this, Bucket thought. Always ready to either fight or fly, always on the lookout for danger, never able to fully relax. If you did slack off, you’d be dead.
In silence, Bucket began making his way downstream, paying close attention to everything around him. He was hoping the rest of the Stalkers had washed ashore further down, and even if they didn’t, he couldn’t stay where he was. So he continued on, feeling his limbs getting warmer the longer he walked.
Then, he suddenly spotted something further down the stream. Something on the shore, something brown in colour, and the shape of... Bucket instantly recognized the hat as the one that Lilly had worn, just before the ambush. He reached down and picked it up between his teeth, feeling the scent of her the moment he did.
He had no idea how a lily actually smelled, but he bet it smelled like this hat did, like she did. It was calming, almost intoxicating to him. Even though he had no interest in mares, he couldn’t help but savour the smell for just a little while longer. Sweet, like the smell of that one red flower he once found, the only flower he’d ever seen in his entire life. Maybe all flowers smelled the same.
With a little twist of his neck, he placed the hat on top of his head and pressed it down over his mane. Better this way then to carry it around in his mouth. With a quiet sigh, he continued on. If her hat was here, then that meant that Lilly was close as well, or at least he hoped she was. Preferably alive and well.
A chill went down his spine as the wind suddenly sang its cold melody, and without realizing why, the little stallion started to hum a tune, something he’d learned a long time ago, when his mother was still alive. A simple lullaby, one he hoped could calm him down further.
“Hush now, quiet now It's time to go to bed...”
As he pressed on, singing his mother’s old lullaby to himself, Bucket never noticed the shadow following behind him, never noticed that he wasn’t alone.
Crescent ran as fast as he could, weaving back and forth between spruce trees and moss-covered stone dotting the forest surrounding him. The sunlight was gone, hidden behind the canopies of the trees and the grey veil of rumbling clouds. His hurried hoof steps remained muffled against the ground covered in damp moss in purest green.
He looked over his shoulder for a split second and caught a glimpse of his pursuers; a golden, pulsating light slowly approaching between the trees behind him. Golden flames, bright as daylight and as warm as the sun itself, casting shadows on the ground as it advanced. Within the flames, he could see the silhouettes of countless ponies; the light distorted their figures and turned them all into long, black shadows, wearing evil grins and torches, their eyes burning with hate.
Suddenly, the forest around him spun around before his eyes. When his head slammed into the ground, he realized he’d been looking back for too long, and in doing so, tripped himself over. He rolled over as fast as he could before rising back up to his hooves. During the few seconds he spent on the ground, he could hear them shouting behind him, loud and full of anger. He couldn’t make out any words, just guttural and primal shouting, basic instincts of rage and bloodlust.
He cursed under his breath as a massive cliff wall became visible between the trees ahead of him. Crescent couldn’t see the top of it, and as he came closer, he couldn’t find an end to either side of it either. He was trapped.
As he spun around, he saw the flames of the torches coming closer and closer. In just a matter of seconds they would be on him. He took a quick glance at the wall behind him; trying to spot anywhere he could climb up, but found nothing but flat rock and more moss. His heart raced as the shouting and hollering became louder.
The stallion turned to his left and set off through the woods, hoping to confuse his followers, and maybe be able to run around them without them noticing. It was a long shot, but the only shot he had.
Somewhere far above him, a deep clap of thunder rolled across the skies, and a few seconds later he felt drops of cold rain pelting his face and shoulders. The moss underneath his hooves became wet in an instant, causing him to sink down further with each step he took.
If he could just reach the boat, he’d be fine. If he reached the boat he could get off this blasted rock and return home. Home to his normal life, home to his sister.
Around him, the forest grew thicker and bushes and other vegetation made it more difficult to move in a straight line. He cut his skin on branches and thick bushels of thorns, and his breath was heavy and strained, but he couldn’t afford to stop for even a second to recuperate. Panting and wheezing, Crescent forced himself to carry on as fast as he could.
But then he came to a sudden stop. For just a few seconds, he didn’t move and stared blankly at what had just appeared before him. His mind tried to understand what he was seeing, but couldn’t wrap itself around the possibility of the truth.
In front of him, in the middle of this ancient forest on an island in the middle of nowhere, stood a doorway.
A white and perfectly ordinary door, towering before him like some gateway out of reality, a tiny hole in the fabric of the world. slowly he inched towards it, both fascinated and afraid of this otherworldly object. The closer he get, the thicker the air around him seemed to get, and once he was close enough to touch the handle, a thick fog had rolled in out of nowhere and now engulfed everything around him. Even the sound of his pursuers had disappeared.
Before he even touched the door itself, Crescent walked around it to see that, naturally, there was nothing there but the other side of the door, just as white and simple as the front. He returned to the front quickly, unsure of what to do next, even though the obvious answer was staring him right in the face. As insane as the whole situation was, he had no other choice than to open the door.
Slowly, he pressed the handle down and opened it with a gentle push inwards. The fog seemed to suck itself closer and into the doorway as it slid open, turning into an even thicker haze before him. After everything he’d seen on this damned island these past few hours, he was no longer surprised by what he saw, and forced himself to simply accept it.
Beyond the doorframe, he saw a narrow corridor, its walls just as white and clean as the door itself. He couldn’t make out the end of the hallway due to the fog, and he had no idea what could be hiding within. With no other choice or possible way to escape, the stallion went through the frame into the hallway and quickly pushed the door close behind him.
Even though he’d been cut off from the forest, the fog remained thick within the hallway and he couldn’t see more than a few inches ahead of him. He stood still for a while, doing his best to catch his breath and try to settle down as best as he could. He managed to slow down his heartbeat enough to focus more clearly on the task at hoof.
Crescent took his first steps down the corridor, his hooves echoing slightly through the thick mist, bouncing around him, turning into the sound of a thousand hooves, somewhere beyond his grasp. The longer he walked, the louder it became.
He stopped and listened for just a few seconds. The echo faded away, and all was quiet, yet just before he stopped, he’d felt a tingling down his spine, as if somepony was watching him. The sound of hoof steps reached his ears, coming from behind him. With no hesitation, Crescent set off running once again.
All he could hear was the sound of the approaching pony, his own hoof steps somehow gone and his panting breath quiet. The sounds behind him came closer, eventually to the point where he swore he could feel something breathing down his neck. Panic once again built up inside him, but he still didn’t stop. He’d never been a stallion to show emotions, he always kept a straight face, even if he was screaming out of fear inside his mind.
“Crescentine?”
Again he stopped. Whatever was following him seemed to be too long gone to be heard, and once again he could hear his own breathing.
“Crescentine? Cresentine, why are running?”
His heart flew up into his throat. Only one living pony knew of his full name besides himself. Only one.
“Ly- ‘sis?” He whispered into the mist. “Sister, is that you? Where are you?”
“Right here, brother.”
Something emerged from the fog in front of him. It took Crescent a few seconds to come to the realization that it wasn’t his sister. This was something else, something much bigger than a pony.
The head of a giant wolf became visible, covered in white fur and eyes glowing in purest sapphire blue. It opened its maw and growled at him, its teeth sharp as razors.
He didn’t even have time to scream.
When Crescent came to, the room around him was quiet. Not a sound could be heard aside from his own jagged breathing. He felt the urge to call out for help, but realized that his tormentors could be just outside the door, and his shouting would undoubtedly reach their ears. Luna knows what they’d do to him if they heard him.
He’d been dreaming again. That damned island that always haunted his nightmares. The things he’d seen and done on that hellish rock would never fade from his mind. He remembered Canterlot Castle on that rainy day so many years ago. Remembered that his sister had acted in a very inappropriate way towards the King of old, and he remembered how he scolded her for it.
The smell of sea as they set off for the island, his King standing by the rail of the ship, the wind blowing through his unkempt, blonde hair, tugging at his cloak as blue as a winter night’s sky. His saddened face against the gloomy horizon.
Stepping ashore on that island had been the biggest mistake of his life, and Crescent had been blaming himself ever since for being so foolish, so caught up in his own greed. Even though his time out there had only been a few hours, those hours had forever changed not only his life, but his entire being. The things he did to stay alive, the pain of every wound and the sting of sharpened blades still echoed throughout his mind and body.
The scars would never heal, no matter what.
Now they would be joined by countless new ones brought on by the abuse he’d suffered since the incident on the river. Still hanging suspended from his chains, he was sure they would leave terrible scars around his fore legs, but at least there wasn’t any pain anymore. Been hanging for so long, his limbs had all gone numb, and the absence of pain enabled him to think more clearly.
It was impossible to tell what time of day it was since the small room had no windows and only one door. The only source of light came from a small light bulb hanging at the centre of the ceiling. If they had electricity, that meant they probably had an old generator somewhere in the area. If he could shut it off and leave them all in darkness, he and his friends could be out in an instant.
His friends. If they were still alive, that is.
Phantom and Sawblade could fend for themselves, no doubt, and so his worries fell upon that odd Pegasus, Willow, and little Bucket. He hardly knew the Pegasus, but still didn’t want to see him hurt or worse. Bucket, on the other hoof, was a different case altogether. He was small and weak and afraid of almost everything, but Crescent had seen what he would do for his friends, and what he was capable of doing in dire situations.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his fear had saved his life more than once. And what about that mare, Lilly? She seemed strong, and Crescent was sure she could take care of herself. Maybe even better than she thought herself.
A clanking, metallic sound suddenly filled the tiny room and pulled him out of his thoughts. The door on the other side slowly slid open with a low screeching and somepony stepped inside the dank room.
“Have you come to end me?” Crescent asked with raspy voice. “Get it over with, then.”
The other pony didn’t answer. Through the gloomy light of the bulb in the ceiling, Crescent could see some masculine features, and figured it was another stallion. This new stallion walked rickety, limping slightly around the room, taking care not to step into the light. As the pony turned about in place, Crescent could see a big stain of black and red covering its entire chest, and a hoof pressed against it to stop further bleeding.
That explained the limping walk, Crescent thought.
“What is your name… Stalker?” The stallion suddenly asked from his place in the shadows.
Crescent was taken aback by the sudden question, but he didn’t answer.
“Please, tell me your name… I’m not… here to hurt you.”
“Why… should I tell you, Bleakling?” Crescent said back to the hidden stallion. “I doubt names have any value to your kind…”
The stallion emerged into the light for the first time, looking at Crescent with tired, weary eyes. Crescent noted nothing out of the ordinary on the pony, his fur and mane bleak and grey like every other of his kind. The only thing that stood out was the open wound in his side, from which blood still dropped in a slow but steady current.
“I’m dying…”
“You’re only getting what you deserve.” Crescent spat back in response. “You and your kind are a disgrace to Equestria!”
“Please just tell me your name…” The Bleaker wheezed yet again, his eyelids looking like they weighed a ton.
“Why is my name so damn important…?” Crescent asked.
The Bleaker sat down on his backside in silence and wrapped his dull tail around himself, almost like he thought it would shield him from something. He looked at the floor, and Crescent could see something build up in his pail eyes. Something he’d never seen in the eyes of a Bleaker.
“… I don’t want to die alone.”
Crescent couldn’t believe his eyes; a Bleaker, cowering on the ground, holding its tail like a blanket. Crying. A pail pony crying like a frightened foal.
“You… what?” Crescent responded, unsure how to react to what he was seeing. Bleakers weren’t supposed to feel emotions, especially not fear or sorrow. He even thought they were incapable of shedding tears.
“Please.” Said the pale pony. “Let me die with at least… the illusion of having a friend…”
“I… Crescent. My name’s Crescent.”
The Bleaker opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door behind him slamming open with a deafening roar. It smashed against the wall as several other ponies stumbled inside. The Bleaker on the floor turned around, but didn’t make any move to get up or even budge and inch. The ponies where locked together in what looked to be a struggle, and the moment they came inside they tossed each other to the floor.
As they rolled around before him, Crescent could make out a familiar face.
“Sawblade!” He shouted, straining his throat to the max.
The second Bleaker broke loose from Sawblade’s grip and stood up on his hooves, grinning madly with blood running from the corner of his mouth. In an instant, Saw blade threw himself over him, grabbed him by the neck and pushed him up against the wall. The Bleaker didn’t make a sound as Sawblade began throwing punch after punch into his face, shattering his teeth.
One final punch before Sawblade smashed the back of the stallions head against the wall, and the Bleaker fell lifeless to the floor with a loud thud. His limbs twitched slightly as blood begun to gather around his mangled head.
Sawblade turned his head to the side, and Crescent met his gaze. Even in the weak light of the room, he saw in his eyes nothing but madness. Sawblade had clearly been thrown into a fit of rage, which Crescent hadn’t seen for almost a year. He’d been able to keep his calm in most situations, but as of now, he knew Sawblade was lost to his own primal instincts, and would stop at nothing.
Without making a sound, the big stallion made his way towards the crying Bleaker in the middle of the room, who had now gone back to staring at the floor. For a fraction of a second, Crescent felt something inside of him, and he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and shouting.
“Wait!”
It didn’t do any good. Sawblade didn’t listen to his oldest friend, and grabbed the Bleaker from behind, putting him in a chokehold. The Bleaker struggled as much as he could, but due to his injury it didn’t do him any good. His mouth hung open and his tongue lolled out from between his lips. A low gurgle escaped his throat.
Crescent looked into the eyes of the Bleaker as his legs begun to kick by themselves from the loss of air. The last thing he made out in those teary eyes before they rolled into the back of the Bleakers head was fear.
Sawblade let go of the stallion, who fell to the floor quietly. Chocked to death in front of the pony that could’ve been his only friend, if so only for a few minutes. Just a moment later, Sawblade had approached Crescent and reared up on his back legs. With a roar he grabbed the chains that held Crescent suspended and tore them off.
He hit the floor hard, and a sharp pain instantly travelled through him. He could hear Sawblade muttering an apology before he felt the nose of the big stallion dig itself in underneath his chest. A few seconds later, he hoisted Crescent up on his back and made his way towards the door. Towards freedom. Before Sawblade exited and the room disappeared from his sight, Crescent threw one last look at the corpse of the crying Bleaker.
A heavy feeling instilled itself in Crescent’s chest.
Lilly wasn’t sure how to feel. Her stomach was a tight knot and her head spun around itself, her temples about to burst. Adrenaline rushed through her body, coupled with fear and worry, but at the same time, a tiny fragment of excitement.
When she impaled the rusty nail into the belly of the Bleaker, something changed within her. She felt like she could take care of herself, like she had nothing to fear. Like she could take on the whole damn world and still come out on top. Slightly bruised maybe, but very much alive.
It was a rush, deep within her mind and body, sending her spiralling down the path to self-consciousness.
As she ran along behind Duskshine with Willow following behind her, she felt more confident than she’d ever done in her entire life. She could do this, she’d find a way and they would all get out of there, and they’d all be back in Ashcraft in no time. She kept telling herself that it was the truth and that it would end happily.
Yet somewhere deep down, her worries still lingered, standing on the edge of her sanity, threatening to take a step out of the edge any moment. She was lost in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of Stalkers she didn’t know, trying to find their way out of a building she’d never seen, filled with ponies that wanted to hurt her.
At least she had one friend with her, one she knew well. One she could trust, and was running right in front of her, shielding her from any danger. It was a slight comfort, and combined with her constant repeated mantra, she managed to stave off her impending breakdown.
They would make it out, she could do it. She had to believe it, no matter what.
Suddenly, Duskshine stopped, and Lilly almost ran straight into his backside, but managed to skid to a stop behind him, sitting herself down to rest her body for just a moment. Willow bumped into her back and neck, but she didn’t take any notice. Duskshine remained silent, and held up a hoof next to his ear, signalling them to be quiet and don’t move.
The three ponies sat in silence, the tension building with each passing second. After a little while, Lilly stood back up and shifted her weight over on her front legs in order to peak over Duskshine’s shoulder. At first she couldn’t see anything but darkness, but then slowly, she was able to make out the outlines of a room around the corner.
“… We should keep moving…” Duskshine whispered without taking his eyes off of what they both saw in front of them. “We can’t help them.”
Lilly wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that kept her from panicking, or if she’d gone numb out of fear and couldn’t react properly to what she saw. Either way, she remained silent and observed the scene that played out before her.
On the opposite side of the room was a wall of iron bars, much like the ones they escaped from earlier. Beyond the bars, she could see the silhouettes of several bodies spread out across the cell. It was obvious that they were already dead. Dark stains coated the walls, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out what it was. But the worst part of the scene was what they saw just outside the cell. Heavy chains hung from the ceiling, bolted shut in the grey stone above their heads. At the end of each chain there was a massive hook, undoubtedly fashioned to pierce through meat.
A bunch of lifeless bodies dangled from the chains, covered in dried blood. Some of their limbs had been removed, creating gaping holes across their bodies.
Lilly couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. Something inside of her forced her to keep looking, and it was pointless to resist.
“Bollocks.” Duskshine whispered under his breath. “There’s no way out of here.”
“What?” Willow asked, his voice trembling. “Of course there is… right?”
Duskshine shook his head. “We’ have to go back.” Lilly quickly opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she spoke even one word. “No buts, missy. There’s no other way.”
Without warning, a door was opened somewhere down the corridor behind them, making them all jump. Instantly, the sound of harsh voices reached their ears, and they were close.
“Fuck! Quickly, hide!” Duskshine ran into the room with the bodies, leaving the other two behind.
Lilly didn’t move. Somehow, she was still paralized from seeing the dead ponies, and now that a new threat approached from the hallway, she was about to shut down completely. She couldn’t hear anything, but she could feel Willow walk around her, see him stare into her face and say something to her.
His eyes breathed fear and his movements were spastic, but Lilly still refused to move. Willow left her and ran up to Duskshine, and for a moment, Lilly wanted to scream, wanted to beg them to not leave her alone. A few seconds later, Duskshine came back to her, and without a word he unceremoniously dove beneath her belly and propped her up on his back.
The voices in the hallway became louder each and every second, coming closer and closer.
Suddenly, Duskshine dropped her down on the floor, and again, she wanted to scream. The first thing that met her gaze was the bruised and bloodied face of a dead pony, its mouth open and tongue lolled out on the floor, dried and cracked. Its eyes had rolled into the back of its head, and being unable to blink, they too had dried and begun to wither. It made her stomach ache, but she couldn’t do anything about it.
Willow slumped down next to her, slowly, shaking. No more than a second after a stopped moving, a couple of ponies entered the room from the hallway they had just been in. Lilly couldn’t see them since she had her back against the room, but she could hear them, and smell them.
They reeked of death and blood, a heavy smell of iron and alcohol, and something else she couldn’t quite place. Something musky.
“These two.” Said one of the ponies. “Do they go to the kitchen now, or what?”
“I guess.” Answered a second voice. “Shame really. Nice mares. I wouldn’t have minded a piece of them.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Lillys’ eyes shoot wide open as she realized what the other pony meant. The thought disgusted her deeply, and she was glad she had her back turned towards what was happening. She heard the sound of hooves against stone, followed by one of the chains rattling, then a loud thud. She guessed it was one of the bodies hitting the cold floor.
She heard some more movement, some sort of shuffling. Lilly felt tears build in her eyes as she imagined what the Bleaker was no doing to the dismembered body. Then she heard the other pony talking again, just a few feet away from her, probably right outside the bars.
“Shit, better get a new one if you’re gonna do that.”
Lilly’s body tensed up even more, if it was even possible at all. Every inch of her ached, and her mind raced as she realized that the Bleaker had entered the cell, looking for the next corpse to string up. A hoof stopped right in front of her face, just inches away from her snout. She forced herself to hold her breath.
“I like this one.” Said the pony standing over her. “She looks… tasty.”
The other pony in the room just grumbled in response.
Sweat began to pour down Lilly’s face, and she couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper between her clenched teeth. Suddenly, she felt somepony grab her by her mane. It became too much for her, she couldn’t hold it in any longer even if she tried. Her body released her.
Lilly screamed at the top of her lungs.
Her legs started to kick involuntarily, and she felt the grip on her mane loosen. The Bleaker took a few steps backwards, unsure of what was going on. He tripped on the corpse next to her and fell on his back. No more than the blink of an eye later, chaos swallowed the tiny cell. She heard Willow rise up and shout something before throwing himself over the Bleaker on the floor.
He started hammering away at the stallions face, still shouting. The Bleaker struggled and landed a few hits upon Willow, but the Pegasus seemed to have been thrown in a fit of rage, and he didn’t stop. It terrified Lilly to see somepony like Willow lose control over himself.
In a haze, Lilly rolled around on her stomach and stood up, ready to once again run, or fight if she had to. When she looked out through the bars, she saw the other Bleaker on the floor, on top of one of the mutilated bodies. He didn’t move, he just stared at her, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened.
Duskshine suddenly leaped out of the cell and latched himself unto the Bleaker, and the two stallions rolled off over the floor. As Duskshine began to batter the Bleaker with his hooves, Lilly felt she couldn’t do anything at all. She backed up into a corner of the cell, too afraid to do anything.
On the other side of the cell, the Bleaker beneath Willow had stopped moving, and he slowly stopped his assault. He threw himself off of the stallion and crawled backwards into the wall, his face distraught, and his legs shaking.
“I… I can’t... Why did I… what…”
He couldn’t talk properly as his eyes watered, unable to look away from the pony he had just beaten. Lilly couldn’t fight her instincts, and crawled over to him, stopped next to him.
“... I killed him…” Willow said, his voice breaking down with each word. “I killed…”
She put her hooves around him and held him while he cried in silence, and for just a brief moment, everything around them became unimportant. They couldn’t hear or see Duskshine and the Bleaker still rolling across the floor, couldn’t smell the odour of blood. For just a moment, they felt peace, albeit fake.
Willow trembled in her grasp, still staring at the lifeless body. His lips moved slowly, repeating the same words over and over. Lilly couldn’t do anything but try to comfort him as best as she could, and resorted to rocking them both back and forth slowly like a mother would rock her foal.
“Oh, fuck!”
Duskshine’s yell filled her ears, and she looked up. He was on his stomach, about to stand up. At the opposite side of the room, the Beaker he’d been wrestling ran off around the corner. Duskshine tried to get up, but fell over as his legs bent underneath his weight.
“Stay here, Willow, I’ll be back. Don’t worry, we won’t leave you”
She let go of Willow and hurried out to Duskshine, who was still struggling to get up.
“Did he hurt you?” She asked quickly. “Is it bad?”
Duskshine looked at her with his typical sly smirk. “No, but I think-Ah!” He fell forward again, and Lilly hurried to catch him on her side. “Thanks, missy. I think my leg’s dislocated...”
Slowly, Lilly lowered herself to let Duskshine rest on the floor, partially rested against her.
“But… you can walk, right?” She asked, meekly.
Duskshine shook his head.
“Fine, we’ll have to carry you then.” Lilly said before standing up again.
“Missy…”
She didn’t listen to him, and instead hurried back to Willow, who was still lurched in the corner, but he’d stopped crying and shaking, at least. He turned to look at her when she came close; his eyes looked tired and weary, as if he’d been awake for days. Carefully, she helped him up on his hooves, and he took long, deep breaths in his attempts to calm down.
“It’s no use.” Duskshine said from his place on the floor.
Not listening, Lilly trotted back over to him and began digging her snout underneath his legs, trying to force him up on her back, just as he did with her. Quietly, Willow tried to help, but it didn’t do any good, he was too heavy for the two of them.
“Lilly.” Duskshine said calmly. “I’m done for, you know it.”
“Shut up.” Lilly spat back at him. “Don’t talk such crap, you perverted fucker.”
“Lilly…”
“No, we’re getting you out of here, and that’s it.”
She pushed and pushed as hard as she could, refusing to give up. She couldn’t leave him, not like this. She didn’t even notice the tears in her eyes.
“You’ll have to leave me.” Duskshine whispered.
“No!” Lilly responded. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you, you hear? Come on, Willow, push!”
But the more she pushed and heaved, the more she started to understand the truth, even though she didn’t want to accept it. Finally, she stopped trying and sank down next to him, panting, wheezing and crying.
“I’m not a fighter, missy.” Duskshine said to her. “It was bound to happen eventually.”
She didn’t say anything. She was spent, tired, terrified and angry. Every part of her hurt, her eyes shut and her lungs burned like fire within her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She rested her head against the side of his neck, and she felt his chin lean against her forehead.
“I don’t want it to end like this, Dusk…”
Duskshine was silent, and the only sound in the tiny room was that of the three ponies breathing and Lilly’s quiet sobbing.
“Missy?” Duskshine whispered. “Did I ever tell you… I once had a brother?”
Lilly opened her eyes and shook her head slowly.
“He was a good stallion.” Duskshine continued. “Dawngleam was his name. He had the same colour as me, but reversed. Orange coat and grey mane, instead of the other way around. We used to live together in Ponyville, a long time ago... Before the snow. Before the killing. Everything was fine, we had a good life, a good friendship and all the mares and cider we could ever ask for. But then one night at the pub, we had a little… argument. Or a pretty big one, actually. Things weren’t the same after that night, and I moved to Manehattan a few months later. Alone.”
“Why are you telling me this…?” Lilly asked when Duskshine paused briefly.
“Because it’s important. After I moved to Manehattan, I spent a long time sulking over what had happened, blamed myself for it. I crawled to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and stayed there. Then just when I thought it was all over, I met someone. Somepony who changed my life, that turned me around and kept me straight, off the booze. And I was happy again, real happy. Until winter came, and with it, the fade. This pony was a unicorn, and had to run away. I couldn’t follow, even though I wanted to-”
Duskshine was cut off as the sound of hooves suddenly filled the hallway, accompanied by several different voices. The Bleaker that had gotten away had fetched reinforcements, it seemed. A few seconds later, a big group of Bleakers emerged into the room, instantly setting upon the three defenseless ponies.
Willow tried to struggle, but it was no use; they knocked him out before he had the chance to do anything. Lilly got up and tried to resists as well, refusing to leave Duskshine and refusing to give up without a fight. Desperate, she threw herself at the nearest stallion, her hooves ready to smash into his face.
A few seconds later, she was down, her legs tied together. They grabbed her by mane and dragged her off, same as they did with Willow and Duskshine. She was the only one to struggle and shout. Duskshine had closed his eyes, and Lilly was terrified that he’d given up completely, given up on himself, his life. Given up on her.
They dragged the three friends through narrow hallways, dank and filled with dust. Lilly had given up her struggling, realizing there was no point, and let her body go limp. In one final attempt, she envisioned herself to be heavier. One last, childish attempt to slow down her captors. It didn’t work, and they pressed on through the building.
Lilly groaned in pain as they pulled her up several flights of stairs, her lower back slamming against each step sharply. At the top of the staircase they emerged into a big, brightly lit room, lined with windows on every wall. She tried to catch a glimpse of the outside, but the glass was covered in so much filth that it was impossible to see anything beyond them.
And then they stopped. The three ponies was thrown against a wall, landing in a pile on top of each other on the floor. When she tried to get free, Lilly caught sight of Duskshine’s bindings, and she had to force herself to keep back a gasp. His ropes were lose. He could break free any moment.
She looked up at his face, and he gave her a stern look.
“… Where have they taken us?” Willow whispered from somewhere next to her.
Lilly and Duskshine shook their heads in response. Lilly took a look around the room, seeing nothing but dust, filth and dried stains scattered across the floor. She looked down, and her eyes shot open when she saw that the floor underneath her was thick with dried blood. A quick turn of her head, and she saw that it stretched out like a big puddle all around them.
A loud rumbling noise filled the room as another pony entered from a door in a corner. With him, he dragged a big metal box filled with wires, buttons and levers, shielded by a thick metal frame. Lilly knew what it was the moment she laid eyes on it; a generator, for electricity. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand what it would be used for.
The Bleakers inched closer from the corners of the room, and she could see the gleam of metal in between their teeth.
It was an execution site.
Lilly began to panic, and turned to Duskshine in wonder. He gave her that sly smirk again, and nodded his head upwards. She looked up slightly, and again, she had to force down a gasp. Far above their heads, the roof had been hollowed out, revealing the skeleton of the building, thick steel beams running back and forth across the ceiling, wires and trash hanging freely.
Perched on one of the beams was a pony, one that wore a pair of goggles over its eyes and a green scarf around the rest of its face. Lilly instantly knew who it was, and her heart skipped a beat. From his place in the ceiling, Crescent made a motion with his hoof across his mouth. Stay quiet.
The Bleakers slowly came closer, inch by inch, holding whatever weapons they could find; knifes, daggers, swords, spears, axes, meat hooks, metal pipes. Lilly didn’t want to think about how many innocent ponies that had been dragged to this room before them. Nopony had probably ever left it alive.
Once they had come closer, Lilly saw the Bleaker dragging the generator stop before bending down over it and pulling up several cords with metal clamps attached to the end. It dawned on her; electric torture. They would make them suffer as much as they could before they finished them off.
They were close now. She could almost feel the hate emanating from them. She partially registered Duskshine moving his legs underneath her, before realizing what he was doing.
Suddenly, Crescent fell from the ceiling.
He smashed his hooves on the head of two of the Bleakers, burying his blades into their skulls. Before he even pulled them out, Duskshine rushed into the crowd of ponies. He launched forward, clamping his teeth around the neck of the nearest Bleaker.
Lilly rolled around on the floor as the sounds of battle filled the room, trying to find something sharp to cut her ropes with. Willow caught on, and tried to crawl away from the battle. Looking around the room, Lilly’s eyes fixed on a knife a few meters away, next to the dead Bleaker that had been using it. Quickly she crawled over to it, keeping a close eye on the Stalker and Duskshine. Just a few feet away from it, she saw a Bleaker break from the crowd before staring straight at her.
She tried to reach the knife, but the pale pony was on her before she had time to move, rolling her unto her back. Despite her struggles, he managed to pin his front hooves against her throat, and pressed down as hard as he could. Out of instinct, Lilly tried to gasp for air, but to no avail, her throat had been sealed shut, preventing any and all air to enter her lungs.
Slowly, her body became numb, and her vision blurred. The mad grin on the face of the Bleaker blurred, and she couldn’t even muster up enough force to blink. Her mouth twisted, and her throat convulsed, trying to force air into her without any success. Her legs kicked and twitched as her body struggled to stay alive, and the only thought that went through her mind was that she missed her parents.
If she let go now, she would see them again. And Applebloom. Everyone she ever loved would be reunited with her. It was a soothing thought, and her body slowly stopped resisting and gave in.
“Enough!”
Through her dying haze, she heard a voice shouting, and suddenly, the grip around her neck loosened just a bit. Her body launched itself upwards as she inhaled as hard as she could, the sweet air of life once again filling her lungs. But the Bleaker didn’t let her go, he just gave her a slap across the face, sending her head reeling to the left.
And she saw. She saw the last thing she ever wanted to see. The battle was over; the bodies of several ponies littered the ground. Willow was covering in a corner, pressed down by two pale ponies. Crescent was on his stomach, held down by Bleakers, unable to move an inch. The blades around his legs had broken, and the glass of his goggles had shattered.
Duskshine was right in the middle of the Bleakers that still lived. On his knees in a pool of blood. Blood that ran down his side from a wound in his stomach. One Bleaker stood behind him, held his head in a tight grip with one leg, and the other pressed against his neck, the blade of his dagger resting against Duskshine’s jugular.
Lilly tried to shout, but nothing but wheezing came out of her throat, and she started coughing deeply.
The Bleaker holding Duskshine looked straight at her, his gaze piercing her eyes.
“This could’ve been so much easier.” He stated without taking his eyes off of her. “Why struggle when you know you’ll die either way?”
“Because we have something worth living for!” Willow suddenly shouted from his corner. “Because-!“ The Bleakers silenced him by kicking him in the ribs.
“Something to live for?” The Bleaker said, mockingly. “Oh, I doubt that. There’s nothing left to live for in this world.” He looked down at Duskshine’s throat. “There is only death.”
Lilly screamed again, as she saw the blade dig itself just slightly into his neck. Not enough to harm him severely, but enough to draw a small amount of blood. She tried to struggle again, but the stallion on top of her was too heavy, and he chuckled at her feeble attempts. Settling down, she rested her head back down on the floor. There was no use, it was all over. her, Duskshine, Willow, Crescent. It was over for all of them. Would anypony remember them?
In the corner of her eye, she caught a quick glimpse of the generator behind the crowd of pale ponies, but something seemed off. She only saw it for a fraction of a second before it was obscured by a stallion, but she was almost certain she saw somepony standing by it. Somepony other than a Bleaker. In her state of exhaustion, she waved it away as her desperate mind laying tricks on her, trying to keep some slither of hope alive within her.
“Lilly!” Duskshine yelled, his voice strained. “Lilly, look at me!”
She thought she saw a faint purple light behind the Bleakers, but again she thought nothing of it. Slowly, she moved her eyes back to Duskshine, too afraid to not look, and too afraid of what would come.
He looked at her with tears in his eyes, his mouth open as he tried to breathe through the vice-like grip of the Bleaker.
“Lilith. This is not your fault.”
The blade cut into his throat.
Lilly never heard herself scream.
Duskshine fell face first into the floor, shaking violently as blood pumped from his throat. Lilly screamed and thrashed about beneath her captor, trying to get loose, trying to get to her friend. He couldn’t die here, not like this, not now. No, it was impossible, he wasn’t dying, and the blade never touched him, no…
Lilly didn’t understand it, but before her eyes, something happened to Duskshine. His coat changed colour, became a black so dark it give off a gleam, like his entire body had been polished.
She saw the purple light again, but it didn’t register in her mind. She heard somepony shout, and her mind told her she heard the word “phantom”.
Duskshine’s mane shrunk back into his head, and his ears changed shape, becoming jagged and sharp. Big holes started to appear all over his legs, and for a moment, Lilly thought he was rotting away before her eyes, soon to be nothing but a skeleton.
A few seconds later, her world exploded. The Bleaker on top of her toppled over as an ear-shattering explosion tore through the room. Heat pressed against her left side, and she suddenly felt herself skid across the floor in the opposite direction, away from Duskshine. She still screamed, now more from fear than sorrow, her throat burning hot.
She hit a barrier with the entire right side of her body, and it shattered into a million pieces, sending shards of glass flying all around her. The unicorn screamed the name of her dead friend as she sailed through the air like a ragdoll.
An orb of bright light illuminated the farthest corner of the dark, empty room. White and pure as silver, it created shadows on the floor in front of it, a distorted image of the body of a young man. The light flickered from time to time in complete silence, disturbed only by the sounds of breathing coming from the owner of the shadow.
Images flashed by on the computer screen in front of him, images of the sort you hide away from prying eyes, hidden well within the files of your computer. The young man sitting in front of the computer skimming these images in a hurry said not a word as the images slowly escalated in lewd content. His breath became heavier by the minute.
The bright screen hurt his eyes, and the deep shadows all around him only gave him a headache, but he could care less; right now it was all about this one moment of satisfaction, that fleeting second of bliss that took him away from the troubles of the world. He often wished there was another way, something else he could do besides this perverted act that could calm him down, but he never found it.
And so he did this, day after day. The same monotonous movement over and over just to achieve some semblance of peace within his mind. The images flashed quickly before his eyes and he took all of them in, as if he was feeding off of the perverted and depraved acts of sex before him. The man’s breath grew faster, strained. It was almost time.
Then he heard the rattle of keys outside the door.
He instantly panicked at the thought of being caught doing what he did, and quickly raised himself up from the chair to tuck himself back within his pants, struggled a little bit with the zipper before he managed to close it. With newly formed beads of sweat running down his forehead, he grabbed the mouse ton his left and quickly closed everything on the computer that could give him away.
“Anton?”
The young man almost choked on his own breath as the voice reached his ears. With hurried and shaking motions he clicked his way into the nearest folder, which happened to contain movies, and clicked the first file without even checking to see what it was. He muttered a curse as the movie refused to start. He frantically moved the cursor of the media player to make the movie start.
“Shaun! Hog Lumps!”
The image of Simon Pegg getting hit in the face with a bag of snacks suddenly filled the screen. He tried to fast forward again. It didn’t work, and only caused the movie to freeze instead. Had he not been in this situation, with his pants halfway buttoned, his heart in his throat and a woman outside his door, the frozen image of Simon emotionless face after snack throw had probably been hilarious. Now it just stressed him even more.
A short moment later he opened up YouTube and clicked on the first video he saw without paying much attention to what it actually was. He sat down as fast as he could in his chair and put his chin in the palm of his hand, trying to stare at the computer screen with an uninterested face.
Behind him, the door finally opened.
“Anton? What are you doing?”
“Oh, just… watching a video, I guess.”
The sound of bare feet came closer to him from behind, and his heart skipped a beat as the worry built up inside him. If she figured out what he’d just been doing, she would have his head. He jumped slightly as she placed her hands on his shoulder, and he shuddered at the warmth of her breath against his face as she leaned down beside him.
“… PewDiePie?” She asked. “I thought you couldn’t stand him.”
“Well, I… I thought I might, you know… get some variation.” Anton said back to her, his heart threatening to burst through his chest.
“You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you?”
Anton froze in place. “Doing what, dear?”
The woman let go of his shoulders with a quiet scoff. A few seconds later, she grabbed the back of his chair and spun him around in his place. The look she gave him when they came face to face said everything, and Anton understood there was no point in trying to act surprised or innocent any longer. She knew. Her eyes burned behind her glasses.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” She asked. “Don’t you think I can smell what you’ve done?”
“Come on, Jennifer… It’s natural. Everyone does it.”
Jennifer sighed angrily and rolled her eyes at him. “When you’re single, maybe.”
She grew silent, and Anton didn’t respond. Didn’t know what he should say, because he knew that whatever he said to her, it would just start another argument. After a little while, Jennifer threw up and arms and groaned with an annoyed expression on her face. As she did, she turned around and started towards the door.
“Jennifer…” Anton spoke out, trying to stop her. “… I’m sorry, okay?”
“No, I don’t wanna talk anymore.” She answered as she pulled open the door.
Anton got up from his chair and hurried after her as the slammed the door hut behind her. He quickly opened it and stepped through into the hallway. She was already by the front door, hastily putting on her shoes. She didn’t look at him when he spoke to her.
“Jen, come on, stop it. I don’t know, we could-“
“No.” She interrupted him mid-sentence. “Have fun with your porn, Anton.” She finished tying her shoes and look up at him with angry eyes. “I’m leaving. Don’t talk to me, don’t call me.”
Before Anton had time to answer, she opened the front door and stepped out into the stairwell and begun closing the door behind her.
“Wait!” Anton said. “Don’t go, you know I still lo-“
“Fuck you.” Jen closed the door with a loud slam.
Anton could hear the soles of her boots against the stone stairs outside as she hurried down, passing the other apartments filled with people he’d never met, yet lived so close to. People he didn’t care about. He cursed to himself for being such an ass, and kicked one of his own boots across the hallway.
“Förbannade jävla helvete!”
He didn’t move for a long while, he just remained in the hallway, looking down at the boots he’d just kicked. They looked like shit, just like him. Discarded, spent, used, broken. A piece of shit no one wanted to have. He couldn’t help but clench his fists in anger.
Slowly calming down just a little bit, he decided to rummage through the pockets of his jacket until he found the little box he was searching for. Marlboro. He needed something to calm his nerves. As he opened the small package, he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the lighter of the table before he stepped out on the balcony. He pulled out a stick and tried to put it between his lips, but his shaking hands made it difficult.
Clumsily he lit the cigarette, and took a long, deep breath. Soon, the substances within the cigarette calmed him down enough to stop his shivering. He blew out the smoke between the lips, feeling his body relax even more as he did.
The view from his balcony wasn’t grand by any means, but it was all he had. Just grey buildings, grey streets and grey skies. Here and there he could see someone stepping out on their balcony as well, probably to take a smoke, just like him. Somewhere off in the distance, he could hear music playing and people shouting and laughing loudly. Probably a party somewhere, bunch of kids getting pissed.
He used to be like them, a few years ago. Whenever there was a party, he’d be there. Wherever there was beer, he’d be there, drowning himself in it. He stayed the longest, drank the most, and did the stupidest things. Just like most kids, he was a stuck-up moron who thought he owned the world and nothing would hold him back. Least of all his parents.
It was just a phase, though, and it didn’t last long. He often thought that was a good thing; he stopped before he did something really stupid or something that would affect the rest of his life. But for a brief moment in his life, he was a rebel, a drunk, the life of every party. And he was the biggest asshole to ever walk this earth. At least, that’s what he told himself.
With a quiet sigh, he snuffed out the last bit of his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the table next to him, and as always, he told himself this would be his last smoke before quitting for good. Anton stepped back into his apartment and shut the balcony door behind him. He could still hear the movie playing on his computer in the other room, but didn’t bother to turn it off.
He sat down at the kitchen table, tried to collect his thoughts, but they refused to stay put. He couldn’t think straight, and he wasn’t sure if he would even like it if he could. Everything had gone to shit lately, and he just cruised along for the ride.
While Simon Pegg was climbing up a wall to his ex’s apartment in the other room, Anton headed back into the hallway and pulled on his boots. Black cowboy boots that he bought some time ago on a sale in town. He was sure that the smell of sweat within them could take out a small country.
Reaching into the small closet next to the door, he stopped for a few seconds. His hand rested over the soft fabric of one of Jennifer’s shirts, a red one with short arms and winged skulls covering the front. He pushed it away to get his jacket.
Every time he put it on, it felt heavier than he remembered it. Strange, seeing as it was nothing but an ordinary leather jacket, yet it felt like it weighed a ton. Anton pulled it over his shoulders and pulled his long blonde hair out from underneath the collar.
“Get fucked, four-eyes!”
Simon Pegg was shouting in the other room again. Anton remember that scene well, where he was arguing with that stiff David-guy over his ex. Anton took another glance at his girlfriend’s shirt, and once again felt the anger bubble up inside of him.
Yeah, get fucked, four-eyes.
He opened the door of his apartment and stepped out into the stairwell, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. His keys rattled as he put one of them in the lock and turned it before running down the stairs.
The air was cool when he stepped outside, a gentle breeze blowing into his face. That, combined with the sudden lack of sounds, music or shouting, created a strange contrast against the stiff and colorless spirit of the town. Slowly, Anton started walking down the street to his left, put his hands in his pockets and just drifted away into the cool night.
Street after street passed him by, and he didn’t even notice that he’d put another cigarette in his mouth. It’d become second nature, automatic, as normal as breathing or blinking, and he almost shut it out completely. It was a filthy habit, sure, but at least it calmed him down. This was his last stick before quitting, he once again promised himself yet again.
He’d walked the same path hundreds of times, always down the same streets and corners, passing the same shops and houses. Anything rarely happened on his walks, except maybe bumping into some old friend on the street, but those encounters where few and far between.
A police car rushed by him on the street, going down the road before him before turning down another. Anton didn’t pay it much attention, he was used to the police patrolling this part of town. He’d lost count on how many times he saw the police being called to a loud party, or just checking up on some group of teens. Everyone around him was paranoid of kids, it seemed.
Since he’d once been one of them, he could understand that paranoia. Drunken teens could be a real pain in the ass to listen to, even intimidating in larger groups.
The cigarette was spent, and he stopped to discard it. He threw it on the pavement and crushed it with his boot, just to be sure. When he looked back up, he found himself staring into the window of a small café, one he’d never been in before. It looked inviting with its comfy booths on the side, warm lightning and frilly little curtains.
All his anger had made him hungry, and when he stood there and looked inside, he realized just how cold it had suddenly gotten. He pulled up his shoulders and shuttered slightly before taking a few hurried steps towards the door.
Once inside, he was bombarded with smells. Freshly baked bread, cinnamon buns, cookies and other various pastries and food lined the counter before him, and the strong smell of it all almost made his head spin. When he looked at the loafs of white bread, the glistening ham and cheese, the biscuits and cakes, he silently cursed himself for not finding this place sooner.
“Can I help you?”
The voice caught Anton off guard, making him jump slightly. He looked up, and saw a tiny little woman standing in the other side of the counter, a smile across her face. She had long black hair, tied in a small knot on the back of her head, and her eyes looked a little bit narrow.
“Oh, sorry, I was miles away.” Anton said quickly after clearing his throat.
“No worry.” The woman said back to him. “Anything you want?”
It was clear from her accent that she wasn’t from around here. Her Swedish was a bit broken, but he could still understand what she said easily. Anton guessed she was from the Philippines or something similar; he wasn’t too good when it came to geography and nationalities.
“Uh… Maybe that shrimp sandwich?” Anton said, pointing at what he meant. “And, uh.,. One of those cinnamon buns there, please?”
The woman nodded and quickly scooped out the things he’d pointed at. “Eat them here or do you want bag to carry them?”
“I’ll eat here, thanks.” Anton responded. He didn’t want to go outside again, now that he was inside this warm and cosy little café; he never wanted to see the cold streets ever again.
“Would you like some coffee with that?” The woman said as she placed his food on a small, shining white plate.
“Oh, yes, please.”
While the woman went in the back to get his coffee, Anton heard the door open behind him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw an older man walking in; his face covered in wrinkles of skin, and the top of his head covered in thin, grey hair. He had small eyes, and an even smaller nose, but his chin was sharp with a little grey stubble on it. The man smiled at him, and Anton gave him a quick nod before turning back to the counter.
The woman came back with a cup in her hand, hot steam rising from the dark liquid within it. She put it on the counter next to his order, and Anton couldn’t help but think to himself that even their damn coffee smelled amazing.
“That will be… Forty.” The woman said as she counted out the price of each article on the counter.
Anton opened his jacket and pulled out his wallet from the inside pocket. He picked up a few coins and a twenty bill, counted it out in his hand.
“Crap, I’m fifteen short here…” He said to the woman behind the counter. “The coffee is fifteen, right? Maybe I could just, um… skip it?” He tried his best to give her an apologetic smile.
She looked at him for a few seconds before answering, like she was scanning him or something. At first, Anton almost thought she didn’t understand what he said, and was about to open his mouth again when she finally answered him.
“No worry.” She said, smiling again. “Take it, you look like you need it.”
Anton started protesting, there was no way he could take it without paying, that would be rude, but the woman shut him up, telling him it was no big deal, and again, saying he looked like he needed it. He didn’t understand what she meant, but he folded and thanked her before turning around to find a seat.
He took aim on one of the booths over by the window. As he came closer, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window, and one look at his face told him why she said he needed it. He looked like shit, plain and simple. His eyes looked tired, and small bags had formed underneath them. His skin looked like it was about to fall off his skull any minute.
The blonde hair on his head looked almost like a wig, like it didn’t belong together with such a sorry face. He tore his eyes away from his miserable reflection and sat down in the booth. The fabric was soft, and he sank down in his seat just a little bit before stopping. He wanted to sit there for the rest of the day if he could, sit there and eat his food in complete silence. Peace and quiet, surrounded by smell of bakery and coffee.
The old man sat himself down at a table close by, holding a similar sandwich in one hand and the paper in the other. Anton tried to read the headlines on the first page as the man opened it, but he couldn’t make out what it said, and so he returned to his own sandwich.
“Hey, kid.”
Anton looked up from his cup of coffee towards the old man who was now looking at him. The man held up a page in the paper for him to look at, the picture of some politician gracing half of the page.
“Can you believe this?” The man asked. “Murdered in broad daylight! It’s no wonder this country is going down the drain…”
Anton was about to speak, not realizing he still had his mouth full of coffee, and the burning sensation quickly forced him to swallow before it got too bad.
“I’m not really… into politics.” Anton answered the old man. “But, uh… that’s Löfven, right? Stefan Löfven?”
The man nodded. “Social democrat, yes. Can’t imagine why anyone would wanna hurt him.”
“Maybe they just didn’t agree with his politics.” Anton said.
“Yeah, I guess. But still, don’t you think that’s a bit too much? To kill a man over his opinions… Olof Palme all over again, I tell you.”
Anton responded with a sigh and a nod before taking the first bite of his cinnamon bun. The old man didn’t say anything else, and went back to reading the paper again. Anton guessed the guy just wanted to talk to someone, anyone. Maybe he was lonely. Anton couldn’t blame.
“Nice jacket, by the way.” The man suddenly said. “Where did you get it?”
Anton looked up with raised eyebrows, being caught off guard by the question. “Hm? Oh, I, uh… It used to belong to my older brother.”
“Huh. A gift or something?”
“Sort of, yeah. I don’t talk about him too often though.” Anton said.
“Oh, sorry to have brought it up, then.” The man answered. “You know, I once had a sister, but she’s… no longer here, so to speak.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Anton said as he picked up the plate from the table and stood up, ready to leave. “But, uh… I better get going, it’s getting late.”
“Well, nice talking to you.” The old man said as Anton passed next to him. He held out his hand to him. “Anders, by the way.”
Anton quickly grabbed the man’s hand and shook it, didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring it.
“Anton.” He said. “Good to meet you, Anders.”
The old man named Anders smiled and nodded. “Give my best to your brother, won’t you?”
Anton blurted out a short “sure” before letting go of the man’s hand. He hurriedly placed the plate on the counter and said goodbye and thank you to the little woman before exiting. Once outside again, the coolness of the night hit him like a brick wall, and he zipped up his jacket to stay warm.
He started walking again, heading home down the usual streets. Whoever that Anders was, he seemed like a nice guy. A little lonely, perhaps, needed someone to talk to. Anton didn’t mind, really, but he wasn’t too fond of talking about his brother.
The truth was, the leather jacket hadn’t been a gift at all. More of a memento, in a way. One day he just decided to get it out of its old box and wear it. It still smelled like his brother, still felt like his brother, like some part of him was still left in the fabric. Anton never washed it, never cleaner it, for fear of erasing that tiny fragment of his brother.
Five years ago, he had vanished without a trace. One day he was there, and the other, he was gone. Not a trace, no clue as to where he went. He left his keys and cellphone at home, even his shoes. It was like he just evaporated into thin air.
Anton never got over it. He missed his brother every day, and refused to give up hope. He kept all of his personal belongings safely packed away, ready for the day he returned. He was hoping that one day, he would just be standing there at his doorstep, like nothing had ever happened, like everything was fine.
Yet the box remained in his closet, in a corner, alone. No one had come to open it, no brother there to reclaim what was his. Five years, and still not a word from him. His parents gave up, his friends gave up, and the police gave up as well.
Mattias Svanström was pronounced dead on the 21st of June 2016, leaving his mother Cecilia, his father Markus and Anton without an answer, without closure.
Anton moved away from his parents the next year, and ended up here, in a small apartment in Eskilstuna, far away from his parents back in Stockholm. In truth, he couldn’t stand them anymore, and wanted away from them. He couldn’t stand the fact that they had stopped trying, that they just accepted Mattias as dead and buried. He would never accept it. Never.
Then he met Jennifer, they moved in together and he was happy again. For a while, he even forgot about Mattias and managed to live a somewhat normal life with Jennifer. Everything was fine in the beginning, and then everything went down the crapper, fast.
Jennifer started drinking. When he tried to stop her, she would lash out at him and call him every name in the book. He lost count of how many times he had to physically restrain her when she came home at five in the morning, drunk and angry.
Once, he loved her. At one point, he wanted to live with her for the rest of his life. But the alcohol quickly washed those dreams away, and their life spiraled into nothing but fighting, arguing and tears. Yet he never left her, because he had nowhere to go, and she never left him for the same reason. Both of them where stuck in their own life, had nowhere to go and no one else to turn to. And so they remained in their broken relationship, too afraid to end it.
Anton stopped in front of a narrow alleyway, without even knowing why. For some reason, he felt like he had to stop there, as crazy as it sounded to him. He looked down the dark street, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special that would warrant him to stay here. Yet he couldn’t tear himself away from there, he couldn’t move.
He had to go down there. He had no idea why, but he just had to.
Slowly, Anton turned his feet and started off down the narrow street. The walls of the buildings came close, shutting out any other sound other than his cowboy boots against the concrete. He looked around to see anything out of the ordinary, but saw nothing.
Then suddenly, he heard a noise. A strange noise, one he’d never heard before, like roaring fire and sparks of electricity at the same time. It didn’t sound natural, and he figured it be best to get out of there. The next second, he heard someone shout.
“Stop! Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
The voice came from somewhere nearby, and Anton instantly remembered the police car that had passed him earlier. Whatever was going on here, he shouldn’t be here, and he tried to turn around and run, but something inside of him told him to stop and wait, just in case.
He gasped in awe as the strange sound became louder, and a bright red light suddenly illuminated the sky just a little while away. He heard more shouting, followed by what he thought was gun shots. Finally he moved thinking this was why he had stopped here, that this was his reason for being here, to help. He ran off down the alleyway towards the red light.
When he rounded a corner, the light had died down, but he knew for sure that it had come from this spot, right here around the corner. The first thing he saw was a policeman on the ground, still clutching the handgun in his hand.
Anton hurried to his aid, but wasn’t sure what to do. He put his ear against the man’s back to listen for a heartbeat, but he heard nothing. Quickly he placed his fingers on the man’s neck, and to his relief, he felt a pulse. Albeit a weak one, but still a pulse, beating away slowly.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket to fish up his phone, but found his pockets to be empty. Anton cursed himself for forgetting his cell phone this one time when he needed it. Instead, he looked at the man’s belt, hoping there would be a radio or something he could use, get help with. He found it, and ripped it off of the policeman’s belt.
“Hallå?!” He pressed the button down. “Hello! I need help, I’ve found an injured man here, help!”
Nothing but static came out of the radio. The damn thing was busted and broken.
“Jävla skit!” Anton cursed again and tossed the radio to the side in anger. Instead, he tried to roll the man over on his side and placed him in the emergency position he’d learned way back in school. He didn’t know what the hell else he could do. He had to get help, but he didn’t want to leave the guy here, because whoever did this might come back any minute to finish the job.
“Anton…”
Anton jumped out of his skin when he heard someone speak his name. Slowly, he turned his head to where he thought the voice came from, and instantly froze in his spot.
A man was standing down the alleyway, looking at him. A tall man, dressed in some sort of trench coat and hoodie, like a robe or cloak. Slowly, the man moved towards him.
“Anton!”
The man reached his arms out in mid-air, like he was about to grab him, even though he was several meters away. Anton got up on his feet, unsure if he should run away or try to fight. But the decision was made for him when a sudden, splitting headache roared through his skull.
Anton screamed in pain and clutched his head, falling to his knees as they gave way underneath him. He started crying, and fell on his side on the concrete street, still screaming, holding his head hard. The pain was too great, he couldn’t take it, he was about to go insane.
The cloaked man came closer, but not all the way up to him. He still had his arm reached out against him, and Anton was sure he saw long claws at the end of each finger. As the man came closer, Anton caught a glimpse of the face hidden behind his hood, and suddenly, everything stopped. The pain stopped as he looked at the man, eyes wide open from both fear and confusion.
He recognized the chin covered in blonde beard, and he recognized the pursed mouth, the sharp nose, and the eyes.
“M-Mattias-?”
Everything around him was engulfed in a red glow, and Anton couldn’t do anything but scream as he felt the world twist and bend around him.
Nothing but cold. A heart that lays frozen in its place behind ribs coated in frost as clear as crystal water. Wrapped in a cocoon of brittle skin, ivory white and smooth as silk, stretched out like a piece of canvas across dead fingers, ready to burst free any moment. The skin tears as muscles tighten and bone grinds against bone.
Ancient tendons strain as they move for the first time in ages.
The pain is unbearable. With each movement the pale skin strains to its breaking point, blunt knives about to cut it open as they slide across the inside. Silver mist rises from dead lips, cold and grey as the forgotten moons of ancient days. Lungs shrivelled into sacks of ash and nothingness.
Slowly the heart ticks, one beat per millennia, dark blood pumping through the veins.
The heart beats faster, moving away from millennia and into centuries. One heartbeat per year. One per month, followed by day. Something returns from beyond, entering through the frozen skin and into the blue heart. Something warm.
The body opened its eyes.
It saw nothing but white and grey and black shadows encircling it from above, sailing across the waves of crimson clouds. It had never beheld such beauty, or such tragedy. Somewhere deep down, the body wanted to touch it, to spread out its thin, bony fingers and let their barrow surface slide across the sea of blood.
A soul beyond light bereaved of life, forbidden from death. Forever locked inside an infinite cell, never to awaken, never to sleep. Shackled within the endless chains of despair. Chains which ever tighten, never breaks. No escape and no relief, torment unending and the end of torment. Shallow waters, deep and dark.
The body saw the sun.
Then darkness once again took it, whisked it away from the quivering mass of bones and ice, until nothing remained. Nothing but oblivion.
“MATTIAS!”
Anton shot straight up from the ground, shouting at the top of his lungs, but instantly started coughing as something in the air made its way into his throat. It was dry like sand, and it prevented him from breathing properly.
His throat rustled and gargled as he tried to gasp for air, wheezing and cackling madly. More of the unknown substance shot into his mouth and got sucked up his nose. In a fit of desperate panic, Anton tried to roll over on his stomach, but as he did, he was instantly covered by a grey cloud of more of the strange sand.
On his knees, he planted his palms against the ground and kept on coughing uncontrollably. For just a few seconds, he managed to stop and try to gather his thoughts. He got a nose full of the strange sand yet again as some particles drifted across his face, and he suddenly got very aware of the smell.
Dirt, fire, burning trees and charcoal. It was strong, and it burned his nostrils like a raging flame. It made its way further up his nose before sneaking down his throat and settling deep down in his chest, like a lump of smouldering embers.
Unable to hold it back, he started heaving yet again, and a few seconds later, a bitter, dark sludge escaped his mouth. He let it run freely before spitting out the last few drops, sour and strong.
He tilted his head down and pressed his chin against the top of his ribs, pressed it down as hard as he could. He clamped his eyes shut and opened his mouth, gritted his teeth in a silent roar. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was in fact, not silent, and the screaming that slowly filled his ears came out of his own throat.
There was nothing else to do, and there was no use trying to hold it back. For some reason, he wanted to shout and scream until his voice gave up completely. He wanted to cry, to laugh and to panic, all at the same time. He wanted his mom; he wanted her to give him a pacifier, or some steak and mashed potatoes, washed down with pizza. He wanted to play with his toys with the other kids, and he wanted to drink and fuck.
Anton’s head was spinning, his thoughts changing by the second, unable to stay focused. Everything in him was in an uproar and wanted to escape and run away in different locations. He never even noticed how he tossed himself over on the side and rolled unto his back, still screaming, his mind twisting around itself into a web of convoluted thoughts and endless emotions. His mind told him he was about to die, then that he was just born, and then back to dying again.
“Sluta!” No pain registered in him when he started smashing his hands into his face. “Sluta, jag kan inte, det går inte! Fucking stop!”
Dust and smoke wiped up around his flailing body as he slammed the back of his head into the floor, trying to break it, to make it all stop. He couldn’t stand it anymore, the maelstrom of madness ravaging through his head, making him go through every memory and very emotion he’d ever felt. It ripped his skull in pieces, but kept him alive through the pain.
Anton saw his brother before him, even though he wasn’t even there
“Döda mig!” Anton shouted at the visage of his brother. “Please, just end it!”
“Your time is not yet come, sweet brother. Endure. ”
Anton once again felt the world spin around him, but he refused to let it take him. Despite the barrage of pain and emotions, one small part of him still fought to stay conscious, pushing away the vortex of darkness surrounding him. His brother was gone, and he suddenly felt a need to move. Without understanding how, his body moved on its own and stood up, swaying slightly. His head still spun around, but his body moved on its own, like something else was controlling it.
His body stumbled forward, almost falling over with each step, staggering around like a drunkard. Through the haze of pain, Anton could see quick glimpses of what looked to be concreted pillars, broken down the middle, and windows boarded up from the inside.
A door came before him, rusted into oblivion and covered in what looked to be cobwebs and filth. The next second, his body slammed into the door with a loud bang, and it swung open on creaking hinges. Instantly he felt his skin freeze as a cold wind hit him straight on and threw him off balance, and his knees bent underneath him.
Trying to struggle, he fell forwards and hit his knees hard against the ground, followed shortly by his elbows. Back in the same position as he’d been in earlier, he finally felt something within him give way, and the pain slowly subsided. His vision stabilised and his limbs relaxed.
It was over, finally. Anton took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he looked up. What he saw made his already strained heart stop dead.
Snow.
Nothing but snow as far as the eye could see. White and pure, a cold canvas covering the world before him. Upon seeing it, he became aware of the cold itself, and felt it creep underneath his clothes and hold him tight. He began shuddering slightly.
“H-hello?” He tried to call out, but his voice came out as no more than a strained whisper. “Is anyone there? Hello…” White mist shot out from between his lips as he spoke.
His fingers started to numb from the snow, and he forced himself up and backwards, instead sitting on his knees and shins in the shallow snow. As he looked around himself to get some idea of where he was, he started rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.
Looking down on his body, he saw a grey matter covering his coat and pants, undoubtedly the substance he earlier thought to be sand. He brushed it off of him.
“Ashes…”
The cold air he breathed made his throat sore and dry, and even his eyes started to feel dry, like sand, and it became difficult to blink properly. Slowly he forced himself up on his feet, swaying slightly as he rose up. With eyes dry as ice, he tried to scan the environment around him, and saw that the snow wasn’t all there was to it.
Beyond the layers of white, he saw buildings and houses varying in colours of grey, white and black. He saw smashed windows, broken doors and shattered walls. Not a single building close by was intact or unharmed, and they all looked abandoned. Upon seeing this, he also noted the debris on the ground, partially covered in snow. He now saw bricks and planks dotting the street in front of him, among other things.
“Where the hell am I…?”
Anton took a few fumbling steps forward, not knowing where he was supposed to go. All he knew was that he had to move and get out of here, before the cold became too much for him. He’d seen a lot of cold winters through his life, but nothing could ever have prepared him for this. It was a different cold, not like the winters back home. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but something felt off about the snow and the chilly air, and he didn’t like it.
Not that he was dressed for such cold weather either. He grabbed his jacket and zipped it close, then put his arms around himself to keep at least a little bit of the warmth in. Shivering, he kept on following the street, the only sounds being that of his shoes against the snow, his jagged breathing and eventually, his clattering teeth.
Building after building passed him by, each and every one broken and shattered. Through the gritty windows he caught glimpses of metal bars, swaying in the breeze, and within dark doorways he saw the outlines of stairwells and more doors.
What the hell had happened to this place? It looked like a warzone, like bombs had fallen from the skies and burned it all. For a moment, he wondered if he’d ended up in one of the many war-torn countries in Europe, but he quickly pushed that thought away. The snow was enough to tell him that he wasn’t, and that would just ask the question of how he ended up on so far away across the globe.
No, not Europe. The U.S? Russia? No, not possible either, and to his knowledge, neither country looked like this, like a graveyard.
The longer he walked, the more uneasy he felt. He started looking over his shoulder every now and then; feeling like someone was following him, watching him. Anton quickened his pace. He was sure he heard something move behind him, and on instinct he started running.
His throat burned even more when he ran, but he had to get away from whatever it was that was following him. He could hear footsteps coming closer from behind. Quickly he dodged into a small alleyway to his right; fell to the ground as he tripped on an old can before crawling up against the nearest wall. His heart raced a mile a minute and his head pounded.
Carefully, he peeked his head out around the corner, expecting to get a glimpse of his pursuer. To his surprise, the street was empty, and he couldn’t help himself from drawing a sigh of relief. After waiting a few moments, Anton slowly crawled out from his hiding place and made his way back into the street.
There wasn’t a trace of any pursuer anywhere, thankfully. The only footprints in the snow belonged to himself, and him alone. Anton couldn’t help but lean his head into the palms of his hands as he stood there in the street, still shaking slightly from the previous dash.
“… I can’t take this; I’ll go fucking mental…”
Anton pulled his hands up to his forehead, rubbed the tips of his fingers into the edge of his scalp for a few seconds before pulling his hands through his hair, let them rest down at his neck, his fingers entangled together while he leaned back into them.
“I have to get out of here. I-Fuck. This… Fuck.”
Determined to get find his way out, Anton sat off down the empty streets yet again.
He turned down to his left as the street parted, and found himself standing in a much bigger street, at least twice the size at the road he’d just been on. Odd looking light poles dotted the part of the street which he guessed was sidewalks, and big windows adorned the buildings around him. Stores, probably.
Anton walked down the street and went up to the first window he came across and tried to look inside. The glass was covered with ice on the inside, and there was no way for him to get through it. He turned away from the window and walked over to the next one.
Before he turned, he took a quick look at the light poles surrounding him. They looked strange and not at all like the ones he was used to. They looked to be made out of wood rather than steel, and the top was adorned with a sort of glass cage. A lantern, the kind you would put candles in.
“Strange….”
He turned away from the lanterns and instead focused his attention on the next shop down the street. Above the big windows hung a wooden sign, swaying slightly in the wind, golden letters written across the green surface of the sign.
Cloud & Cerenia’s Cloaks And Coats
The words were partially encircled by an equally golden horseshoe. Anton didn’t pay it much mind after reading it; he now wanted to get inside this store as quickly as possible. He grabbed the door and yanked it, but it didn’t move. He tried pushing it inwards and it gave way just a little bit. Not enough for him to get in, but enough for him to actually notice that it did move.
Quickly, he looked down both ends of the street, making sure no one was watching. He sighed at his own stupidity, reminding himself that he was beyond any doubt the only living thing in the entire area, and no one was going to care what he did.
“… Okej. 1-2-3!”
Anton slammed his left should hard into the wooden door, and it gave way a little bit more. Before he pulled back to launch again, he could see the inside of the shop for just a split second within the narrow slit that was forming between the door and the frame. He saw nothing but darkness.
He charged again, making the door crack and creak under his weight. Specks of snow pried loose from the top and fell down over his head. The door was almost open; one more time would probably be enough.
“Kom igen nu, ditt envisa skrälle-Ah!”
The door finally gave in, and Anton tumbled face first into the store. His body hit the floor hard, sending up a plume of dust into the air. Anton pushed himself off of the floor and tried his best to wipe the dust off of his clothes.
“Först aska, nu damm… Kul. Skitkul.”
In front of him, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness and deep shadows, like an abyss opening up before him. Anton didn’t move, his mind slowly filling with possibilities of what might hide deeper in the store. For all he knew, there could be anything down there.
“Hello Darkness, my old friend…” Anton whispered into the blackness. “I have not come to talk to you again. Please leave me be.”
Anton managed to pull his eyes away from the shadows, and turned back to the door. It was still open, swaying ever so gently as wind got sucked in through the doorway. Hopefully it would stay open. He reached down and scooped up a dusty old brick, which he put down next to the door to keep it open, just to be safe. Next to the doorway was the big window, partially hidden behind a tattered old tapestry, the grey fabric moving just a little.
In hopes that it would give him some more light, Anton grabbed hold of the drapes and pulled as hard as he could. They tore off of their metal rod with a loud tearing sound before falling to the floor, and blinding light instantly found its way into the store. Not enough to hold back all of the darkness far back, but enough to give him a better view of the front of the store.
The first thing he saw was a mannequin.
“What the…?”
It wasn’t a human mannequin. Instead, it seemed to mimic some sort of animal, some sort of four-legged creature with a long neck and pointy ears. Hesitantly he walked up to it to get a better look at it, expecting it to move as he came closer.
He didn’t like mannequins, or dolls for that matter either. Any sort of thing that mimicked a living being made his skin crawl. It was a fear that his brother had shared, before he…
Anton pushed those thoughts out of his mind; he didn’t need them right now. He was in enough of trouble as it was without it. Carefully, he reached out and gently touched the strange mannequin. As he let his fingers slide down the long neck, he felt the colour of the creature crumble beneath his fingers. It had been here a long time with no one to take care of it.
The more he looked at it, the more he realized that it carried a resemblance to a horse or some other equine creature, just missing the mane and tail. Anton took a quick peek around the rest of the shop. Could it have been a store that designed gear for horses and their riders? But he couldn’t see any sort of saddles or other similar objects. Just a lot of cloaks, like the sign said.
Deciding to forget the strange mannequin for now, Anton instead did what he initially set out to do. He started to rummage through the lit part of the store, trying to find some piece of clothing that could keep him warm. Whether he would spend a lot of time here or not, he had no desire to freeze to death before he got out.
After a bit of searching, Anton realized just how different these cloaks looked from the ones he’d seen back home. Usually they would be long and wide, open in the front and cut in a way to fit over one’s shoulders. These cloaks looked a lot different, shorter and with an odd cut by the hood. Holding up a cloak made from tattered wool, he couldn’t help but think of it as a cloak made for a horse.
He tried draping it across his shoulders, and despite the unusual design, it still fit him pretty well and reached down to his feet, thankfully. Made for a horse or not, it would still do a good job of keeping him warm out in the snow. Anton grabbed the sides of the cloak and wrapped it around himself like a blanket, testing it out. With the hood covering his head and aching ears, he would at least stand a chance against the cold.
From another smaller cloak, he tore off a long strand of grey fabric, and wrapped it around his neck. It wasn’t much, but it was the closest he could get to a real scarf, and it would have to do. He pulled it up over his mouth and nose, offering a little more protection from the weather outside. The make-shift scarf smelled heavy of dust as he breathed through it. As he adjusted the cloak and scarf further, he began making a plan of action in his mind.
Now that he had some sort of protection, he could start thinking of other necessities; shelter, fire, food and water. The store would do nice as refuge, if he could just explore it further in, to rule out any danger in the other rooms. There had to be something he could use to start a small fire; maybe not proper trees, but at least some sort of wood. Maybe batteries.
Anton counted the ways of making fire he could remember on his fingers. Some good might have come from all those hours of watching Bear Grylls on TV, he thought. His mind was racing to remember the basics of survival and all the little details he’d seen and heard so many times, but as the real weight of the situation started to set in, he couldn’t focus properly.
Suddenly, something interrupted his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what it was or where it came from, but he had definitely just heard a low sound from somewhere nearby. Anton spun around when the sound came back, seemingly from the shadows deeper in the store.
“Hello?”
There was no answer, just the unbroken shadows, and perhaps something within them, watching him. The thought of no longer being alone in this forsaken place made his skin crawl and his eyes shot wide from fear. Something or someone had been watching him all the time, ever since he entered the store. Something deep within the darkness.
“… Is there anyone there?”
For a few more moments, there was nothing but silence in the store. Then a new sound slowly made its way into his ears; breathing. Anton couldn’t stop his body from trembling as he heard it, a deep, strained breath, coming from the shadows.
It grew louder, stronger, as whatever was making the sound drew closer. Wheezing and gurgling, a sound that made him think of someone who was sick and tried to breathe through the mucus in their throat. Slowly, Anton started to back away from the shadows and towards the door, not taking his eyes away from the blackness.
The breathing reached a new pitch, high as a shriek that rang through his ears. Anton couldn’t stand it anymore, finally letting fear take a hold of him completely.
“Nej!” He shouted as he grabbed the door. “Nej-nej-nej! Fy fan-fy fan!”
He pushed the door open and took a hurried step outside, but instantly stepped on the cloak and tumbled forward into the snow. He’d almost forgotten just how cold it was outside, but the cloak served its purpose well.
Anton rolled around on his back and propped himself up to look in through the door, and the moment his eyes fell upon the darkness in the store, his heart froze.
Something was moving in there.
Taken by fear, he opted to just run, get out of there as fast as he could, but a tiny portion of his mind told him to stay, not to run. He at least had to close the door, to prevent whatever it was on the inside to get out.
Panting, Anton got to his feet and dashed for the door, but he tripped yet again as his wobbly legs refused to bear him. He fell down in the snow a second time, but instead of getting up he started to crawl on all fours towards the door.
The sickening breath could be heard from the other side as he came closer.
Anton crawled faster, rising to his feet just in front of the door, panting quickly and his heart about to burst. He grabbed the side of the door and slammed it shut as hard as he could. It generated a loud bang that echoed across the empty street, the sound amplified through the hollow winds that tore through the town.
Just before the door shut, he had caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes, hollow and empty, that stared right at him, tore through his flesh and into his soul.
He planted his back against the door to hold it for a while, before slowly sliding downwards into a sitting position in the snow. He was panting and wheezing, and he noticed something cold on his cheeks. Not until this point did he realize he was in fact crying, and once he did, he couldn’t hold it back.
As if the realization of the tears had made his situation a definitive reality, Anton broke down into sobs as he tipped to the side on the ground and wrapped the cloak around himself. Up until this point he hadn’t been thinking, trying to shut out the severity of it all, but the recent encounter finally made the wall he’d put up in his mind crackle and fall.
Lost, god knows how far from home, alone, cold, scared. All he wanted now was to go home and forget that this had ever happened, escape from the cold. He would even do all he could to patch things up with Jen, if he could just get home again.
What little hope he had been keeping alive deep inside had no abandoned him, left him a crying heap. Left him for dead in unknown and hostile land, left to the mercy of the elements with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, no one to turn to for help.
Lost.
Anton lay on the ground shaking, both from the cold and from sobbing and part from fear. He lost track of how long he remained there, time seemed to stand still as he cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, and just moved to quiet sobs. He shifted slightly, wiping away frozen tears and snot as he did. He moved over on his side, and looked out across the end of the street with teary eyes.
Off in the distance, he suddenly spotted a massive building, higher than any other, towering far above the rest of the dilapidated city. It was undoubtedly the strangest building he’d seen in his entire life, and he just couldn’t understand what it was.
At the top of the massive concrete and glass tower sat the giant head of a horse, bronze in colour, but partially covered in snow and ice, a chunk of the top of its mane missing. Its big eyes seemed to almost survey the strange town, and Anton couldn’t help but think of it as some sort of silent guardian, and it gave him just a small slither of warmth within him.
There was a movement. Anton caught just a glimpse of it in the corner of his eye. Something that moved just at the edge of the street.
Many years ago, when Anton was but a little boy at the age of ten, his parents took him and his older brother for their first roadtrip through the country. They started out from their home in one of the many suburbs surrounding the Stockholm, and travelled south with the eastern shoreline. Each night they would stop in a new city for some rest before pressing on the next day, and little Anton loved every minute of it.
From Södermanland to Östergötland, Kalmar and Blekinge, each day saw a new town and new possibilities, new things to see and explore. It was all a grand adventure for Anton, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually they reached the southernmost point of the country, from where they could see Denmark across the sea, and the young boy was mesmerised by it.
A whole new land to see, just across the waters, so close yet infinitely far away. He had asked his parents if they could cross over, but they said they didn’t have time for that, but perhaps another time, and Anton settled with their response and the hopes of one day seeing their neighbouring country.
They continued north, passing through Halmstad, Falkenberg and eventually Göteborg, before they reached the border to Norway, which they passed right over and visited the Norwegian capital of Oslo for a few days.
By next week, they had almost reached the border to Finland, and took respite in the town of Kiruna, nestled far up in the northern mountains of their land. Here rested the biggest mine in the country, where the workers mined iron day in and day out, and Anton couldn’t help but imagine weary men hammering away with pickaxes in dark tunnels. Of course, they used more modern tools, but the mind of a child will wander.
He imagine that they had come here from some other country, probably Finland, to seek a new life, and in his head he saw rows after rows of grown men wearing mining tools, followed by women and children carrying other various appliances. Like pioneers they marched on, heads held high and a smile on their faces, despite the hardships they knew would come.
Anton thought of himself as being part of these people, tried to imagine what he would feel like as he passed the border with aching feet and weary shoulders. It was a strange and foreign thought, and idea of something different, something new and exciting. He would let his mind wander for hours as they travelled to the south yet again, exploring the possibilities of such a life.
Even when they stopped for the night his mind was clouded by images of a new life, though by now they had transitioned into something completely different, as far away from the original idea as possible. From miners and hard work, his mind had explored every possible path to choose, until the young boy drifted off into thoughts of dragons and knights.
He dreamed about battling massive beasts and shambling skeletons, the thoughts of miners now completely thrown to the wind like a forgotten memory, or ashes spread out at sea. Nothing remained, crushed by the giant claws of drakes, trampled into dust under the soles of brave warriors.
In the middle of the night, Anton had awoken from his dreams by a slight pressing pain in his lower regions. Blinking, the young boy slowly got used to the darkness, and saw his older brother sleeping in the car seat next to him, and his parents behind them in the trunk which had enough space for someone to sleep in.
The pain grew sharper, and Anton shifted carefully in his sleep to not wake up the rest of his family. It took a good while to open the car door properly, but at least he managed to do so without making too much sound, and they didn’t wake up as he quickly snuck outside into the cool spring night.
He was surrounded by forest on two sides, and darkness on the others, where he could see just a fragment of the dirt road they had parked on. The boy had never been afraid of the dark, and without a second thought of what could be out there, he took a few steps into the forest before him. A little while in, he stopped and unzipped his pants.
When Anton came back out unto the road, he instantly felt something was a bit off. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was sure someone was watching him. He figured that maybe Mattias had woken up and was looking at him from the car, but one quick peek through the glass told him that his brother was still fast asleep.
Yet he still felt like someone was watching him. Someone close by.
Anton spun around and placed his back against the door, then peered through the darkness around him for any sort of movement. He wasn’t really afraid of what it could be, he was more curious, never thinking of the possibilities of it being something dangerous that lurked nearby.
Suddenly, he spotted something further down the dirt road. A low, hulking silhouette, standing in the middle of the road some ways behind the car. Anton looked at it with peaked curiosity, but he couldn’t stop a tiny shiver from sliding down his spine.
The silhouette had four legs, pointed ears and a thick tail, which was moving slightly together with the animal’s breathing. He couldn’t see its eyes, but he felt them pinned right at him.
After a few minutes of the boy and the animal watching each other in complete silence, the four-legged being darted away into the woods, leaving Anton alone once again.
He never told his brother or his parents of this encounter, but it stayed with him a long while, and undoubtedly shaped him, in a way. Furthermore, the boy had no idea how he was supposed to tell his parents that he snuck out at night and ran into an animal, probably a carnivorous one at that, without making them lose their minds from worry. So he kept it a secret from all of them, contempt in his decision that it was best for both him and his family.
Now, several years later, Anton found himself in an all too familiar situation. One that brought back the memories of his nightly encounter with the strange animal. Despite the familiarity it bore with his childhood, this was altogether different, so much so that his mind had trouble piece together what he was seeing, but it proved almost impossible to understand.
He was still on the ground, wrapped in his cloak in the snow, but now he was sitting up slightly, his eyes fixed on the strange creature before him. It was standing almost in the middle of the street, and was staring back at him with frightened eyes. It had been running across the road, but stopped dead in its tracks when it caught sight of him.
Whatever it was, it had four legs, legs that seemed to tremble slightly from either fear or the cold. One of them raised itself slightly as the creature shifted its weight without taking its dark cerise eyes off of him. Its body was covered in what looked to be fur, but the dark red colour it bore didn’t seem natural to Anton, nor did the hair in top of its head, shimmering in all the colours of the rainbow.
Slowly, the creature crept its way towards him, visibly tense and unsure. Anton guessed that this strange animal was just as confused by him as he was by it.
Anton wasn’t sure what to do, but got a feeling that the creature was relatively harmless, at least for the moment. As it came closer, he noticed that it looked almost exactly like the mannequin he’d seen in the store earlier, just slightly bigger, probably a stronger animal than what the mannequin was meant to look like.
Carefully, so as not to spook the odd animal, Anton tucked his legs up beneath himself so that he could squat up on his feet and out of the cold snow. The creature hesitated slightly as it did, but it didn’t run shy away from him, and it didn’t stop.
It was no more than a couple of meters away from him, so close that Anton could almost reach out and touch it. The distance of two meters quickly shrunk to no more than one, and then the creature stopped dead in its tracks. Slowly, it sat down in the snow in front of him, its eyes moving back and forth, up and down as if it was inspecting him in some way.
Anton tilted his head slightly to the side, giving the animal a wondering frown. The creature mimicked his movement, blinking its eyes slightly as it did. Anton decided to carefully reach out to the strange animal, and slowly raised his hand towards it.
It looked at his hand with a confused face, then back to his eyes. Anton did a tiny wave with his fingers, trying to signal to the creature to come closer. Still with a confused look on its face, it took a quick peek to the sides, almost as if it was making sure no one else was watching, before scooting a bit closer to him.
Slowly, the creature raised one of its legs hesitantly, and Anton guessed it tried to copy his own raised arm. He made an encouraging wave with his hand, and the creature finally reached out far enough to reach him.
The end of its leg touched against Anton’s palm, and it was cold and hard like stone. They sat silent for a while, observing each other as they almost held hands, in a way. Anton was utterly confused, but fascinated beyond belief, just like that night when he was a child.
“…. So what are we doing here?” The creature suddenly asked.
“Herrejävlar!”
Anton pulled backwards from the animal and flew onto his back in the snow, shuffling to keep up straight.
“What?!”
“Du talar!” Anton shrieked in his native tongue.
“I have no idea what you’re saying…” The animal responded, shaking its head slowly.
“You’re talking! What-the-fuck?!”
“Of course I talk, I’m not a mute!”
“How?” Anton asked, trying to calm himself. He did his best to sit up straight once again, all the while staring with big eyes as the talking creature. “What-what are you?!”
“A pony, obviously.”
Anton responded with more confused stuttering, his brows unsure whether or not they wanted to go up or down.
“Or a Pegasus, to be more precise.”
“I-what-you-Idontgetthis!”
“And the name’s Willow, by the way. Willow Sprint.”
Anton settled down unable to get into a straight position, and just let his shoulders slouch limply a he let out a heavy sigh. He kept staring at the strange animal, trying to piece together what he had just heard.
“So.. what the fuck is a Pegasus?” Anton asked once he got some semblance of control over his breathing.
“A pony with wings. But, uh…” The pony looked back at its sides, and Anton just now caught glimpse of a pair of wings on his back, just like the pony said. But they looked odd, even to Anton. He didn’t ask about it.
“Alright, okay, right. You’re… a pony? With wings? And isn’t willow a tree…?”
“Well, maybe-“
“And you’re talking!”
Anton quickly stood up on his feet, the strange meeting taking its toll on him, and he suddenly felt a strong urge to move about, as if something was crawling within his legs. The “Pegasus” stood up on its four hooves as well, and Anton noted that its stature topped around his waist.
He turned his eyes away from the animal, brought his hands up to his face and rubbed the palms hard against his skin in an attempt to collect himself.
“Jag pratar med en liten, färgglad häst med vingar som är döpt efter ett jävla träd och jag är iskall och frusen i en jävla stad som ser ut som ett bombnedslag.” Anton paused briefly in his rant and took another look at the pony. “Fan, vad jag hatar mitt liv.”
“There you go again…” The pony said. “Can’t understand a word, just gibberish to me.”
Anton let his hands fall to his sides and let out a heavy sigh as his heartbeat had finally calmed down enough for him to think clearly. “How can you be so… calm about this?” He asked the pony.
The pony shrugged at his question. “I don’t know... but now that you’re calm, maybe you could tell me your name or something?”
“An-Anton. My name is Anton.”
“Doesn’t sound like any name I’ve ever heard.”
“No, I’m not… I’m not from around…” Anton looked down the empty street, snow blowing across the pavement in silence. “Here. Wherever ‘here’ is anyway.”
“So you’re lost?” Willow asked.
Anton nodded. “I guess you could say that.”
“What’s happened to you anyway?” The pony asked once Anton got quiet. “You’re covered in... is it ashes?
Anton looked down at his clothes that lay visible through the wide opening in his cloak, and the pony was right; his leather jacket and pants were still covered in the grey substance from earlier, the ash he had awoken in, for some reason. He was sure he’d wiped it all off before, but the ash now seemed adamant in not leaving him.
“Fuck if I know, I just… woke up like this.” Anton gestured to his filthy jacket.
“What do you mean?”
He was about to answer the pony, but was suddenly cut short by a new sound that echoed out across the street, coming from somewhere close by. Both the human and the pony turned their heads to where they thought the sound was coming from, listening closely to it.
“Willow?!”
It was a voice calling out. It sounded a bit different from the voice of Willow, darker and almost smoky, like the owner had smoked too many cigarettes in his life. Anton suddenly realized how much he wanted a smoke right about now.
“Sounds like Crescent.” The pony said. Anton didn’t answer. “I’m over here!”
A few moments later, another one of the strange pony-animals entered the street, running out from an alleyway between two buildings. It looked to have the same physique as Willow, but was still a lot more different than him. The new pony quickly caught sight of Willow from across the street and set of running towards them.
This new pony, which was named Crescent according to Willow, had beige fur and long, flowing mane in varying hues of red, and its eyes were covered in a pair of goggles, one side being shattered and broken. Draped over its lower back and tail was a piece of greyish-green cloth that looked like an oddly designed cloak.
Its black hooves made not a sound against the snow-covered street.
“Thank goodness you’re alive-“ Willow began, but was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.
“Shut up and get away from him!”
The new pony suddenly bit down on Willow’s mane and attempted to pull him away from Anton. “Stop it, Crescent, you-!”
“Are you out of you damn mind?!” Crescent roared through his gritted teeth. “That’s him, and you’re standing here talking to him! Did the explosion scramble your brains?!”
“Hey, maybe you should calm down-“ Anton tried to say as he took a few steps towards the duo of ponies, but he didn’t get far.
“Stay away!” Crescent shouted, still trying to pull Willow away. “You-you murderer!”
“Murder-what?!” Anton asked the agitated pony in front of him.
“Thanatos!” Crescent shouted in response.
“His name is Anton, you moron, and he’s just as lost as we are!”
The pony named Crescent stopped dead in his tracks, his neck straightening out in surprise. “He… told you his name?”
Willow nodded in response.
“Didn’t try to kill you? Rip you in half?”
“Why would I do that?!” Anton protested.
“But… you look just like him…” Crescent said with low voice after finally letting go of Willow’s mane.
“Who-?” Anton asked.
“It’s not him, Crescent.” Willow said.
“Then who the hell is he, and how did he even get here?!” Crescent’s gaze alternated between Willow and Anton, seeking an answer from either one.
“… I wish I could tell you.” Anton began. “But I have no idea myself, I just woke up in a heap of ashes and then-“
“Ashes?” Crescent asked with raised eyebrows. “Tell me everything, from the start.”
Anton sighed and tried to piece together his memories, but for some reason it proved difficult as they all seemed to avoid him, slipped away as soon as he got a hold of them.
“I… I remember I was at a café.” He said slowly. “There was this man there, Anders, I think his name was… Then there was a police man, red light and pain.”
“Well, you lost me.” Crescent responded. “Café? Another man, a… police man…? Is there more of you out there?”
“Of course, humans are the main species on the earth…”
“I don’t know where the hell you came from, but not here.” Crescent said. “It’s mostly us ponies here. Anything else?”
“I think... just before I passed out… I think I saw my brother.”
“You have a brother?” Willow suddenly asked, taking the other two by surprise as he’d been quiet for a while.
“Yeah, Mattias…”
“You’re not… Twins, are you?” Crescent said slowly.
Anton shook his head slowly. “He’s five years older than me.”
“You see now?” Willow asked Crescent. “He’s harmless.”
Crescent mumbled something before he started walking towards Anton with a stern look on his face. Despite the pony not being taller than his hips, he somehow still looked intimidating as he crept forward, and Anton found himself backing up instinctively.
“Let’s assume I believe you, for now.” Crescent muttered. “Let’s assume I won’t kill you where you stand.”
Anton kept going backwards, but the pony moved faster, and after a few seconds, Anton felt his back hit against a wall behind him and he stopped. Crescent inched closer, coming to a stop just in front of him, so close that the pony had to tilt its head upwards to look at him. Having the teeth of a slightly wild animal so close to his groin made Anton flinch a bit.
“I am a Stalker.” Crescent hissed at him. “That means it’s my duty to protect the ponies of this land and help wherever and whenever I can.”
Suddenly, the pony reared up on his back legs, becoming just a long as Anton himself.
“So let me make one thing clear.” Crescent pressed his fore hooves into Anton’s shoulders hard. “If you try anything to hurt anypony under my watch, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?”
Anton nodded quickly without taking breaking eye contact with the pony.
“Good. You may consider yourself as ‘under investigation’. You may be the first human to set foot in Equestria for a decade, but if you try anything, and I mean anything-“
“You’ll chop my head off, got it.” Anton quickly answered.
“Right. We should get moving, we’ve lingered here for too long.” Crescent let go of Anton and stood back down on all fours before turning to Willow. “We should start looking for the others’”
“What others?” Anton asked of them both.
“Our friends are out there, injured or maybe worse. I don’t care that you’re a human, you answer to me from now on and I say you’ll help us find them.”
“… I haven’t got any choice, do i?”
“Not if you want to live, no.” Crescent looked back to Willow. “And you; how can you be so calm? There’s a human standing in front of you, and you act like everything is la-di-fucking-da! What if he’d been dangerous, he could’ve killed you, damn it!”
The angered Stalker stared Willow down for a moment, the Pegasus not responding, just looking at his hooves as if he was embarrassed. It made Anton think of the way a scolded child would act, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Willow was in fact much younger than Crescent.
Without another word, Crescent set off down the street, and Willow soon followed, leaving Anton alone, staring at the two ponies as they hurried away without him. He let out another deep sigh and waved his arms above his head in an annoyed gesture before he started jogging after them.
“Tack som fan, hästar.”
“Did you see what happened? Right before the explosion, I mean?”
Anton was doing his best to keep up with the ponies in front of him, and he was thankful that they had slowed their pace a little bit, probably just to keep him close. He didn’t have much in the terms of stamina and sure as hell wasn’t used to running, and certainly not for such a long period of time. His chest burned like fire, and slowly but surely an aching pain was building up on the right side of his stomach.
He didn’t even want to follow this strange duo of talking animals, but he didn’t have much choice anyway. Either follow them to god knows where, or be left alone in the shattered ruins and skeletons of old buildings. Not to mention that despite being only half his height, that Crescent pony terrified him.
And so he just tagged along for the ride. Or more precisely, their ride. Not his own.
“No, I was facing a wall.” Willow said in response to Crescent’s prior question. “I kind of just froze up after they pinned me down.”
The duo of ponies came to a stop at the edge of a wall, Anton following right behind them.
“Maybe that’s for the best.” Crescent said as he slowly peaked out from behind the corner and out into the next street. “It was painful to watch, even for me.” After speaking, Crescent emerged from the wall and kept trotting forward.
Willow and Anton hurried along after him. “Duskshine’s dead, isn’t he?” Willow asked the Stalker.
Crescent said nothing, and in doing so gave an all too clear answer to the Pegasus’s question.
“What about Lilly?”
“She saw everything.” Crescent whispered. “I hope she’s all right. Too many ponies have lost their lives already.”
After a few more moments of silence, the Stalker stopped yet again. Off in the distance, they could all see a plume of black smoke rising high into the skies.
“That’s it.” Crescent said calmly. “We’re close now.”
“… Close to what?” Anton cautiously asked from his place in the back.
“The explosion.” Crescent said back to him without looking at him. “We were ambushed and captured; a few more Stalkers and some civilians. One of the Stalkers, Phantom, used his magic to ignite the fuel in a generator, and then everything blew up.”
“Captured by what?” Anton asked.
“Bleakers. Nasty fuckers. Some ponies call them Bleaklings, or Bleaks. Doesn’t matter what you call them though, they’re still just as bad.”
“Has this… horse world always been like this?”
“Pony world, not horse.” Crescent glared. “And no, it hasn’t. Though sometimes it feels like it’s been…”
“Huh. I’m still trying to cope with the fact that you’re talking.” Anton muttered under his breath.
“Well, good luck with that.” Crescent said, and Anton could’ve sworn he heard an almost jokingly tone hidden behind his words.
Anton didn’t ask any more questions. As they came closer to the plume of smoke in the distance, even he could feel a sense of uneasy and worry descend upon the unusual little trio, a veil of apprehensiveness draper across them all, trying to smother them.
They ran down streets, weaved back and forth between debris and snow, hugged walls in their attempts to stay hidden. Anton followed in the back, doing his best to keep up with the strange ponies, but his lacklustre condition reared its ugly head as he ran. The pain in his right side had grown stronger, to the point of his ribs hurting when he breathed too hard.
Panting and wheezing, Anton followed the duo into a narrow alleyway which seemed to wind its crooked way between the many dilapidated buildings and houses. The thought that the road was allergic to being straight popped into his mind for just a second, causing him to let out a quiet chuckle. It only caused him more pain.
After a little while, they took a narrow turn to the right and once again exited unto a thick street, covered in snow just like all the others. When Anton emerged into the once bustling street, the ponies had already traversed halfway across it, and didn’t seem to notice him getting too far behind.
He tried as hard as he could, but was unable to run any further. Anton stopped, leaned forward and placed the palms of his hands against his knees, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He looked up slightly, and saw that the ponies had disappeared somewhere on the other side of the street.
Despite his attempts to call out after them, his throat had become too strained after the running, and all that came out of him was a weak wheezing.
It wasn’t goo. His only chance at maybe getting out of this damned place had run off, and he was once again left alone in the ruins of civilization. He started to remember the things he’d seen earlier. The strange movements, the heavy breathing inside that store, and the overwhelming feeling of dread and loneliness.
The short moment he’d spent with the ponies had somehow pushed those thoughts out of his mind, but now that he was alone yet again, they came creeping back from the back of his head, like a rotten and forgotten being crawling back to claw at the door of its former master.
Suddenly, Anton once again felt like he wanted to cry, but he held it back. It wouldn’t do him any good anyway. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being infinitely small and insignificant, like a child who’s lost its mother. His mind told him he wanted a hug. And a cigarette. How long had it been since he had that one just outside the cafe? Hours? Days? He had no idea, but the need had begun to make itself know again.
Once his breathing had slowed down slightly, Anton managed to straight himself up, his back giving off a low crack as he did. He grinned as he felt something pop in place in his lower back. It wasn’t painful, thankfully, but more than a little uncomfortable. Just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of unidentified pains and aches that he would never do anything about anyway.
He couldn’t help but twist his head slightly to the left, pretty much out of instinct, a response to the crack in his back, and as he did, his eyes wandered down the empty street for a few seconds before stopping involuntarily on something.
It took him a few seconds of staring for it to really register in his mind, for the full weight of what he was seeing to finally sink in and settle. And once it did, his skin begun to crawl like a thousand insects on fire.
Standing just a little while away, in the middle of the street, was a black silhouette. A tall figure, dressed in black and a hood covering its face. Snow whipped around it, like an unnatural whirlwind that had gathered round this dark spectre.
It was a man. A human.
Without thought, Anton acted out on the first thought that entered his mind.
“Mattias! Är det du?!”
The tall human in black didn’t respond to his call, or even so much as move. Whoever it was, they just stood there in the middle of the street, head bowed down slightly, just enough to cover the eyes but not the whole face. And Anton was sure that the eyes of this stranger was pinned right at him.
At had to be his brother, it couldn’t be anyone. Crescent had said that he himself was the first human in this land for years, and asked if he had a twin brother. Anton saw only one logical conclusion.
His brother had once been here. If Crescent was right, it was at least a decade ago.
And now another human was standing before him. It had to be Mattias, it just had to. Why else would Anton even be here if he wasn’t drawn here by his own brother?
Without a word or warning, the man in black suddenly turned and dashed across the street to the left. The tattered black robe he wore seemed to flow like water around his legs as he ran, and it took him only two or three steps to reach the end of the street.
“Vänta!”
Immediately, Anton rushed after him. The fact that the cloaked man ran at an unnatural speed didn’t bother him, or rather, he chose to push it into the back of his mind. Nor did it ever occur to him that Crescent had seen terrified of the thought of a human other than himself. The wish to find his brother was too string, and it pushed away all other thoughts and distractions. For the moment, there was only him, and the man he hoped was his brother; nothing else mattered.
With sudden, new-found stamina, Anton hurried down the same alley that the cloaked man had taken, but there was no sign of him. He looked down and spotted clear prints of boots in the snow before hi, and decided to follow them, hoping they would lead him to the strange man, and maybe, just maybe, some answers.
He didn’t even register the pain in his right side that had kicked back yet again, didn’t even notice that he was panting; all was irrelevant and of no concern to him, all that matters was what was at the end of the foot prints.
Anton bobbed and weaved back and forth, following the tracks through winding alleys, through broken fences and across empty streets. The tracks seemed to go on forever, but he refused to stop, even though the pain in his ribs slowly crept back.
And then suddenly, he came to a grinding halt as he emerged on a narrow street in the back of a few buildings, their tall stature casting long shadows across the ground. The man was standing in front of him, his back against him.
He didn’t do anything, he just stood there, just like before, except this time, Anton could see his shoulders notably rising and lowering themselves, as if the cloaked man was breathing heavy or trying to contain something. Perhaps his temper. Perhaps anger.
For the first time since he began the chase, Anton felt the cold breath of fear blow across his spine. Something wasn’t right.
The man before him suddenly gave off a grunt, and seemed to clutch his arms to his chest as if he was in pain. Anton instinctively reached out, but of course he was too far away to do any good.
Before Anton had time to understand what was going on, he was thrown backwards by a massive force that knocked him to the ground and pushed all air out of his lungs. He scrambled to his knees in the snow, and looked back up at the man in front of him, and what he saw made his eyes go wide in both awe and fear.
Big, black feathers sailed through the air all around him, coating the ground like a new layer of snow, black like the night sky. The man stood before him, his arms stretched out to his sides, his fingers spread wide apart.
A pair of massive black wings sprouted out from the man’s back.
With a single, powerful push, the man rocketed upwards into the sky, his wings conjuring up a veritable blizzard around him. Anton tried to hold on to the hood on his own head and did his best to wrap his cloak around him in an attempt to cover himself.
For just a second, Anton saw something dangling around the neck of the man, something dark and with a red glow surrounding it. Something otherworldly.
And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, the man disappeared up into the clouds, leaving Anton alone in a storm of pure, white snow and black feathers.
Anton scrambled to his feet clumsily, his eyes still fixed upon the place where the winged man had been just moments ago. He couldn’t comprehend what he had just seen, and he couldn’t help his mouth from hanging open in awe and his eyes being wide from fear. He could feel his entire body trembling, not knowing if it came from the cold, or something else.
Humans don’t have wings. The mere thought of it was utterly ridiculous, insane even.
But what he’d seen had been real, he was sure of it. Still, he found a voice deep in the back of his head wondering whether or not he was completely losing his mind. Even though this skeleton of a city seemed to be teeming with mysteries and things he didn’t understand, this took the fucking cake. Never mind those talking ponies or that thing in the cloak shop, that was nothing compared to this.
His mind and body had no idea how to react, and so he just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty space of air between the buildings as the black feathers sailed to the ground around him. He lost track of time, the concept itself all but lost on him as seconds warped into minutes, hours and days, before coming back to seconds yet again, the thought of time blown away by the image of that hooded face.
Could it… really have been him?
Lost in his own thoughts, he never noticed the figure approaching him from his right side, never heard the sound of steps in the snow as it drew nearer. He didn’t look down when the red figure walked up right next to him and stood there; looking up at his own hooded face. For all his body and mind knew, the world around him had ceased to be the moment those wings emerged from the cloaked man.
Could it really have been Mattias?
Anton? Hello? Can you hear me? Say something, damn it!
He heard a voice right next to him, but it sounded more like a whisper, coming from somewhere far away, as if a spirit was calling to him from beyond the grave. It kept on whispering to him, each word and sentence flowing together into an endless stream of nothingness, ancient words that he did not understand.
Slowly, a different sensation crept its way into his head. An abnormal being from somewhere far beyond that intruded into his mind, a creature as red as fresh blood. It cut through the whispers of empty whispers and latched on to his feeble mind, threatening to crack through him any moment, bearing down on him like waves upon waves of oblivion.
It took him a while to realise that this creature, this horrid, red abomination, was in fact a manifestation of pain which slowly grew within his mind. He tried to think clearer, tried to locate the source of it. He didn’t have to look for long; it came from the side of his right hand.
Snapped out of his thoughts by this pain, Anton looked down at his hand.
A pair of dark cerise eyes met his own, partially hidden being locks of rainbow hair. Willow looked at him with unsure eyes, his teeth clamping down around the ridge of Anton’s hand. He quickly yanked it out of the pony’s mouth, and took a few steps back, pulling his hand to his chest out of instinct as he did.
“Vad fan håller du på med?” He asked, looking over the pony before him. “My hand is not a fucking chew toy!”
“I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” Willow said back to him. “You were just standing there, staring at nothing.”
Anton shook his hand slightly before taking a look at it, a clear band of teeth marks adorning its side, coupled with what he guessed to be pony saliva. He quickly turned away from Willow and wiped his hand on his cloak.
“Pale like ashes, you were.” Willow continued. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost or something.”
While he talked, Anton contemplated in his head whether he should tell him about what he saw or not, and after a very brief consideration, he decided on the latter. The red Pegasus behind him had obviously already gone through enough without him worrying about… whatever that man was.
“Heh. There it is again.” Anton said with a quiet chuckle, unsure why he even did so. “Ashes. It’s been everywhere since I woke up.” He took a quick peek down unto his jacket. “And I’m still covered in it. What the hell does it want from me anyway…?”
Willow didn’t respond.
“I mean, why ashes?” Anton said as he slowly turned to face the pony. “Snow would’ve made more sense-“
He stopped dead in his tracks once he’d turned around. His heart wasn’t sure whether to beat frantically or stop altogether, and instead seemed to settle for momentary onslaughts of trying to break through his ribs. The pain it caused him made his head spin.
Willow wasn’t there.
Not a single trace, nothing that proved the pony had ever been there. Not even hoof prints in the snow. Still shivering, Anton slowly raised his hand to his face. No bite mark. No glistening saliva. Just a cold hand, bearing not a single stain of the previous encounter.
Anton felt his mind scream in fear at him, but he forced it to remain there. His breathing became sharper and his heart sped up violently, and suddenly, the hand he was looking at turned into two, both see-through and pale. The ground beneath him begun to spin together with the world around him, and he found himself staggering, almost falling over.
Now, he was sure he was about to lose his mind. Something had snapped somewhere, and he thought he’d been talking to a ghost. Whether that was true or if it had just been a delusion brought on him as an effect of recent events, he really didn’t like the thought of Willow as a spirit. The thought of Willow, dead. A talking pony that he barely knew and he already cared about the damn animal. He told himself that he would never get himself a pet, if he ever made it back home alive.
And then as quickly as the nausea and panic had begun, it disappeared, in the blink of an eye. His fears and worries remained as strong as ever, but at least he regained control of his composure. His heartbeat seemed to slow down, just enough for the pain in his ribs to subside, and it helped him to calm his breathing as well.
Even though he couldn’t stop panic from setting in, but at least he could understand why. He thought that he’d been almost too calm and collected despite the things he’d been through, and felt surprised that he hadn’t turned into a crying, broken heap already.
Perhaps that would come later. Maybe his own mind would tear him to pieces, but not this day.
Finally calmed, he shot one last glance at the skies between the buildings above him, picturing those wings in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it had been his brother or not, after all, he moved with almost inhuman speed and dexterity, and what Crescent had said earlier still weighed heavy on him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the true identity of the man anymore. It felt wrong, somehow, like he wasn’t even supposed to know.
Anton was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by a piercing shriek, tearing through the cold air around him. He spun around and looked, but saw nobody, or no pony. Just the infinite canvas of snow and ice covering the broken walls of the buildings around him.
The shriek came back, this time louder, high pitched. The more he listened to it, the more he felt like he could understand it. A third scream told him it was definitely a female, and he was sure that whoever she was, she was screaming in fear.
What about Lilly?
The words Willow had spoken echoed in his mind as they came to him, and he quickly put it together with what he was hearing. Could it be this… Lilly, that he had asked about? Whoever it was, he couldn’t just leave her out here. The ponies had come to his aid, albeit slightly unwillingly, but help they offered nonetheless. The least he could do was to return the favor.
Still with the screaming ringing in his ears, Anton hurried off to where he thought the sound was coming from, hoping he wasn’t too late, or that once he reached the source of the cry, that he wouldn’t see something he didn’t want to see.
As he once again found himself running through the winding alleyways of the town, he felt himself drawing closer to the sound as it grew in volume. It became so loud it almost hurt his ears.
Rounding a corner, he stopped as he reached the end of the line, the source of all that shouting. While the scene before him wasn’t as bad as he had feared, it still made his eyes go wide in shock.
Two ponies where in front of him, one on its back on the ground, and another standing over it. The one on the ground was struggling to keep the other, pale one away, and they were both covered in blood. The screaming came from the pony on the ground, shouting in abject terror.
The one on top suddenly pressed two of its legs down on the other pony’s throat, snuffing out most pf the screaming, turning it into hacks and wheezes instead. Anton made a move against the duo, instantly catching the pale pony’s attention.
When it looked up on him, and Anton saw its face, he understood why the other pony had been screaming in such terror. The blood covered face looked straight at him, and he had to force down a shriek of his own.
Within seconds, the pale pony was on him.
Lilly couldn’t feel her body. Everything around her was numb and gone, her mind a single solitary soul, floating along in the currents of oblivion, leading into an abyss of emptiness and shadows. She knew she was dead, she could feel it. Or rather, she couldn’t feel it; couldn’t feel life coursing through her like she used to, couldn’t feel the warm breath within her. She was dead, in every way imaginable.
And she only felt relief.
All she could see was the knife cutting into flesh, and his pale green eyes rolling into the back of his head. Duskshine. All the blood. The pain, the misery. As the stream carried her onwards, she was glad, knowing that soon, the tormented face of her friend would be gone from her mind forever. Perhaps she would meet him when she finally reached the end of this journey. Perhaps she’d be happy.
Lilly opened her eyes.
The abyss surrounding her crept away, giving way to bright light, pure as silver. Slowly, she blinked. The light persisted, shining straight through her eyelids, strong as the sun itself. She remembered the books she once read, about the princesses of old that once ruled Equestria. Luna, the ruler of the moon and watcher of the night. And Celestia, rightful ruler of the sun itself, sovereign of the day.
She found herself hoping that the bright light was that of this princess, her divine radiance descending to carry her into beyond, into the bright light and far away, to a place with no more pain and suffering. Lilly wanted to go with the princess so badly, and leave this horrible world which she had come to hate.
A cloud suddenly drifted in from out of nowhere and covered the light. Lilly blinked again, slowly realizing that it was in fact the sun itself shining down upon her, not the princess. Once she realized this, her body came back to her, instant pain covering every inch of her tiny being. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry.
Still alive.
She wanted to lay there forever, lie in the snow, staring into the sun, until the cold claimed her and put her to rest. As she lay on the cold ground, she felt herself crying, weeping like a baby. Letting go off herself, she scrunched her face together, crying and sobbing as she tucked her legs hard against her body. Lilly rolled over on her side, tears still streaming from her eyes, the green eyes of Duskshine still vivid in her mind.
Her cries went from quiet sobbing to loud wailing as she rocked herself back and forth in her own embrace, wanting nothing more than to fall through the ground and into nothingness. She chocked and wheezed as her throat clogged up and snot escaped her nostrils, mixing together with her tears. She didn’t bother to wipe any of it away.
No longer caring about anything or anyone, she lost control of her body as her sobbing caused ripples of pain to course through her, her muscles twitching and contorting with each and every breath. She lost track of time, didn’t care about it. Nothing mattered, only the green eyes in her mind.
Lilly wrapped herself in her tattered old cloak, a cocoon to shield her from the cruel clutches of reality. It was all she had left now, the only thing that offered her comfort, no matter how minute it was. She didn’t own much in the world, but her cloak and her hat were the ones most important to her, the only things she had that could be connected to the memories of her former life. The only mementos of her real mother, and later, her adoptive mother. Now the hat was gone, but at least she had the cloak still.
Things should’ve been different, not like this. All of this should never have happened, her life should’ve been normal. In a perfect world, she would live with her parents, Applebloom and Duskshine somewhere far away from everything, just them and nopony else. She would’ve been happy with such a life, but instead, the life she has was and bitter, lonely and hollow.
Out of nowhere, she felt something poke her in her back. The sensation came so suddenly and so abruptly that at first, she didn’t even realize it was real, thinking it was just more pain from her memories. When the poking became harder, she couldn’t ignore it any longer, and tossed herself around on the ground to face whoever was doing it.
She was greeted by a pale face with equally pale eyes, a mad grin plastered beneath them, yellowed teeth gritted at her. She recognized the face in the blink of an eye, and instantly wanted to run. It was the bleak pony that had held her down and tried to strangle her earlier, right before Duskshine…
“Cry all you want, little filly. Nopony’s here to hear you.”
Before she had time to move, the Bleaker throw himself over her. Despite her instinctive struggling, he was much stronger than her, and her body had been weakened by the fall, and she found her strength failing her.
He pinned her down, standing over her like an executioner, that grin still playing across his face. He seemed to almost enjoy her tears and crying.
“Did you love him?”
Slowly, he leaned in closer to her face, not breaking eye contact.
“I bet you did, didn’t you?”
His breath made Lilly nauseous, but she couldn’t get away, couldn’t squirm out from his grip.
“Did you see how he…. Changed?” The Bleaker’s smile somehow grew wider. “Did you see it?”
Lilly couldn’t help but whimper a tiny “Yes.”
“That black, scaly skin and bug wings. Oh-hoh, I bet he cared so much for you, didn’t he? That’s how they feed, you know. Off of the love and emotions of other ponies. That’s what keeps them alive, his… kind.”
Lilly’s body trembled more and more the longer the Bleaker talked, and she felt her insides twist.
“They need it, love. It’s like a drug to them. Did you really think he ever cared about you, you stupid filly?”
Lilly started screaming, but she didn’t even register in her mind what she was screaming. Nothing but inane shouting and shrieks as the Bleakers words sunk into her. She begun thrashing wildly beneath him, trying to get away, trying to drown out his words.
“Did he ever say that he loved you?”
“Shut up!”
She couldn’t take it anymore, she refused to believe him, it was all lies and deceit, as far from the truth as anything. With new-found strength, she arched herself upwards in an attempt to get free, which instead caused her to involuntarily headbutt the Bleaker, but something felt odd when they connected. There was a slight resistance, and the Bleaker instantly yelled in pain, a bit too much for such a simple injury.
Something warm ran down her horn and into her eyes.
The Bleaker stumbled away from her, and Lilly rushed to her hooves. In horror, she saw the state of his face, and understood what had happened. He clutched his right eye with his fore hooves, blood pouring out from between his hooves and down his chest. He toppled over on his back legs and fell into the snow, writhing and screaming in agony. In a moment of sheer shock, she felt sorry for him, despite what he’d done, what he was.
Then she snapped out of it and turned around to make a dash for it. Before she took one step, she felt the Bleaker behind her, stepping on her cloak. She pushed him off, and heard the fabric of her cloak tear as she pried herself from his grip.
“I’ll gut you, you little cunt!”
The Bleaker screamed in anger behind her as she rushed away from him, her heart beating a mile a minute. Her breath was erratic, her entire body shaking and her stomach twisting. She could hear the pale pony behind her, still not giving up his pursuit. She had to do something, and fast, or else he’d catch up to her and do goddess knows what to her.
In an attempt to shake him, she dashed through an open door into what looked like a storage magazine, and hurried across the concrete floor, her hooves clanking loudly as she ran. Still, he came after her, the sound of his hooves joining hers in a cacophony of loud clopping sounds. He roared in anger behind her.
Lilly darted around a corner and came into a hallway lined with several doors on each side, and quickly, she jumped in through a door on the right, hoping it would shake him off. She pressed herself against a nearby wall and crouched down, pushed her cloak up over her snout in an attempt to keep quiet.
She heard him rush by the door, heard his jagged breathing as he stopped halfway down the corridor, probably looking around, trying to figure out which door she took.
“An eye for an eye, girl!” He roared out in the hallway. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you and I!”
Lilly jumped from fear as she heard him kick in a door somewhere close by. It became harder to breathe steadily, and she tried her best to keep quiet.
“You’re gonna be begging to die when I find you, you little-“
His last word was drowned out by another loud bang as he kicked open a second door. Lilly felt more tears stream down her face. The tiny slither inside her mind, that basic survival instinct had carried her here, despite her wishes for her life to be over. It was all a cruel game. Perhaps she should just let him kill her and be done with it. It would be the end of her pain, at least.
In the hallway, the Bleaker kept on opening doors, now in silence, drawing closer to hers by the minute. She was sure he took as long as he could, toying with her, playing his little game. A power rush, getting enjoyment out of her fear.
And then suddenly, the hallway became quiet. Silent as a grave, not a single sound reaching her ears for what felt like several minutes. Unnaturally quiet, even, and Lilly hoped dearly that he had given up, for some reason.
Slowly, she stood up, her eyes pinned to the door. Taking short, trembling steps, she made her way towards the door, trying to shut out the tiny voice in the back of her head telling her to stay away. She wasn’t thinking straight, but her mind was too unraveled for her to even realize it. Lilly approached the door, and gently placed her ear against the wooden surface. She heard nothing, not a sound. She let out a sigh of relief, her terrified mind thinking he’d given up.
The next second, the door broke down in an explosion that sent splinters flying everywhere as the Bleaker ran straight through. It pushed Lilly backwards, but she managed to stay on all four hooves without falling to the ground.
Without a word, he threw himself over her again, rearing up on his hind legs, ready to rain down pain upon her. Not knowing what she was doing, Lilly’s body kicked into autopilot and reared up as well to face him. They clashed their faces together, their front legs entangling as they both struggled against the other.
They wobbled back and forth, neither about to give up, both trying their hardest to push the other on their back. As much as Lilly wanted to run, her body was fighting by itself, running on gears she never knew she had. She was forced to stare into the face of her pursuer, his right eye mutilated and bleeding heavily. In her attempts to push him away, that blood transferred over to her as well, coating her face and neck, leaving a sickening smell of iron in her nostrils.
She felt her back press up against a wall, probably a window, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she thought it was over, that she was done for. Then for the second time that day, her body shattered the glass and she fell backwards through the window frame, followed by the Bleaker, still holding on to her.
Screaming, she felt shards of glass cut into her body as they both rolled over the ground just outside the window, her body now spent and ready to give up, the struggle and the pain proving too much for her. She screamed over and over as they rolled around, still offering up just a slither of resistance. It wasn’t much at all, but even the Bleaker had become weakened, and her feeble attempts somehow proved to give her a fighting chance.
They came to a stop suddenly, she on her back in the snow and the Bleaker on top of her. He pinned her down for a while before rising up above her, that horrid grin from before back across his face, looking even worse now thanks to his injured eye.
He breathed heavy and stared down on her, blood still oozing from his right eye. Some of it dripped down on her face, and again, Lilly couldn’t contain a shriek. The pony over her had, somewhere along the line, snapped completely, that mad face bearing down on her death a death sentence.
Lilly screamed in both fear and disgust as he blinked, and his mutilated eye moved slightly within its socket. Despite her desperate struggle, she knew it was over for her, there was no point in trying anymore, and she let herself break down yet again, no longer caring, crying like before.
Then without warning, the Bleaker on top of her jerked its head back upwards, and looked to its left. Lilly watched in confusion as the pale pony, for some strange reason, left her and darted off somewhere else. She didn’t care where he went, she was utterly and completely spent, her body a complete wreck of pain. She just laid there; staring off into the skies above, hoping the pain from the glass shards would go away.
Somewhere off in the distance, she heard the sounds of struggle, heard someone grunting and shouting. She didn’t care about it, too weak.
She heard someone call out her name.
The bloodied pony rushed towards Anton, glaring madly, it’s only remaining eye filled with nothing but pure rage. For the short fragment of a moment it took for it to reach him, Anton stood dumbfounded, thinking back to home and the countless movies filled with raging hordes of mad zombies.
Not to mention that he never expected to see a pony in a state such as this. Somehow, it didn’t feel natural.
Anton was thrown to the ground when the pony launched itself at him and wrapped its fore legs around his throat. As his back hit the cold ground, he snapped out of his thoughts and reacted to what was happening, instantly trying to fight back out of pure instinct.
He was surprised by how strong the pony was, and that it had managed to throw him over, despite only being half his size. The man and the pony rolled around on the ground, both shouting at each other; Anton trying to calm the pony or make it stop, while it only answered by shouting obscenities into his face.
Despite the pony being so taken over by animalistic rage, Anton didn’t want to hurt it, or worse, kill it. His mind told him that no matter what it did, it was still just an animal, and he’d never hurt an animal. Instead he only tried to pry it off of him, but it was proving harder than he thought.
The rabid creature refused to let go off his throat no matter how he pushed and fought, but at least its grip was weakening just slightly as the struggle went on. Both combatants slowly became more fatigued the longer they went on.
They rolled around yet again, but came to a stop as they both slammed into a wall, the impact knocking all breath out of Anton’s lungs for a brief moment. The pony still holding him slid to the side and hit its head against the wall, and toppled to the side, letting go of his neck in the process.
Anton shot up, propping himself on his elbows, greedily drawing in as much air as he possibly could. When he did, he caught a glimpse of the other pony, the one that had been screaming earlier. She was still on the ground in the exact same place, looking up into the skies with a hollow expression on her face. His first thought was that she was dead, and whoever she was, he didn’t want to see a pony dead
“Lilly!” He shouted to the lifeless pony, despite not knowing if it even was her, but it was the only female name he’d heard since he came here, so he just assumed it was her. “Lilly, can you hea-aaah!”
His last call turned into a shriek of pain as he felt something warm and sharp sink into the side of his neck. He tried to spin around, only to realize that the pale pony held him in a vice-like grip and refused to let him go. Its jagged teeth bore into his flesh, and he tried to get it off, but to no use.
Like a savage dog, the pony started to trash its head back and forth, trying to cause more damage to him. The assault took Anton completely by surprise, and the pony yanked him down unto his back, still tearing at his throat. He grabbed the snout in an attempt to get it off, and he felt warm blood run down between his fingers.
With every thought of not harming an animal tossed straight out the window, he frantically looked around for something to defend himself with. A few meters off to his right he could see a frozen pile of what looked to be building bricks, and while there wasn’t any guarantee he’d be able to get ahold of one, it was his only chance.
Anton moved his hand from the snout and instead started to punch his fists as hard as he could into it, but it was hard to get any force behind his blows in such an angle, on his back. Getting an idea, he quickly tucked up his legs and tried his best to place his feet flat on the ground, and did the same with his hands.
Red handprints painted the snow around him and with a cry of pain, Anton pushed himself off the ground and unto his feet. The pony lost its grip on his throat and fell to the ground behind him, but before it got another chance to pounce him, Anton rushed towards the pile of bricks.
He ducked down on his knees, frantically looking for a brick that wasn’t frozen solid, but there was none. Panicked, Anton ran his hands across the stone, trying to get hold of one that he could hopefully pry loose. He quickly found one, and started to pull.
No more than a second later, he saw movement in the corner of his eye, and then the pony launched itself on him again.
They both toppled to the left, and as they did, Anton felt the brick loosen, and he tightened his grip around it as they tumbled to the ground.
Somehow, he managed to push away the now weakened pony and rose to his knees, panting heavily, having trouble breathing. His entire body ached from pain and fatigue, but he forced himself to push it aside. He raised the hand holding the brick, ready to attack. He wasn’t about to let some insane animal kill him, like he was nothing but prey.
The pale pony rushed him again.
Anton swung the brick as hard as he could.
It was all over, just as fast as it had started. His hand clocked the pony straight in the side of its head with a loud, cracking sound, and the force of the impact almost numbed Anton’s entire arm and the pony fell to the ground with a whimper as blood painted the snow in dark streaks.
Anton scrambled to his feet and dropped the brick. His breathing was erratic and fast, his widened eyes looking at the now meek creature before him, whimpering and shuddering in a building pool of its own blood. He didn’t feel any sort of accomplishment or relief that he’d just cheated death, all he felt when he looked down on the pony was sadness and guilt.
He had to look away, and hope deep inside that he didn’t kill it, that it would survive. He didn’t want to think about what he’d been forced to do, nor did he want to life with its death on his shoulders.
To block out those thoughts, and to push away the image of the writhing and whimpering pony, Anton instead hurried over to the other pony, whom he still assumed to be the Lilly that the other’s had mentioned earlier.
She remained where she’d been just moments prior, on her back, staring into space. Anton made his way over to her, still panting and his lungs feeling like burning coals. He tripped and fell to his knees next to her, but didn’t bother to stand up, his body feeling like lead.
“L-Lilly?” He managed to ask between panting breaths.
She didn’t answer, but Anton registered her head moving slightly in the tiniest of nods. Her big eyes remained half shut, but they didn’t move to look at him. At least she moved, acknowledged that he was there and that she could hear him. Strands of her white mane covered part of her face, and some sort of horn protruded from her forehead, its tip covered in dry blood.
“What the hell happened to you…?” Still no response came from her, and no more movements. “Are you hurt?” Slowly, the pony shook her head.
Anton took a peak over his shoulder, and both to his relief and anguish, found the pale pony to now be still and no longer moving, coated in its own blood. He turned back to Lilly, wishing dearly to just leave that place, leave behind all the blood.
“I… I met Willow.” Anton said slowly, his mouth feeling dry as he spoke. “And that other one… Crescent. He wanted my help in finding you and the others, so… Here, I am, I guess.”
“…. I don’t care.”
The words that left Lilly’s mouth were low, nothing more than a meek little whisper, yet Anton’s ears still heard them.
“We should get out of here…” Anton said. “Get you back to those… was it Stalkers he called them?”
“I don’t care.” Lilly repeated herself.
“Well, I can’t just leave you here. I promised Crescent to help-“
“I don’t care.”
Anton let out a deep sigh, before standing up slowly. He had no idea how to talk to her or how to react to her words.
“Look.” He said to her. “Can you walk? Or do you want me to carry you? Either way, I’m sure as hell not leaving you here alone.” He quickly pointed to the bloodied pony behind him. “If there’s more like him out there, we need to get as far away from here as fucking possible.”
Suddenly, Lilly’s eyes sprang into motion and pinned themselves right into his own.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
“Fine, fine, you don’t give a shit!” Anton said before reaching down and wrapping his arms around her. “But I fucking do!” He hoisted her up in his arms and did his best to wrap the tattered cloak she wore around her. “And I never want to see another pony dead.”
He pinned his eyes on his tracks so that he wouldn’t have to look on the presumably dead pony, and started to trace his own steps backward. Surprisingly, Lilly hadn’t resisted being carried at all, and just hung limply in his arms. He’d expected her to protest and squirm like a cat trying to get free, but instead, it was as if he was carrying a corpse, completely lifeless.
Not saying another word, he hurried back the way he came, doing his best to follow his footsteps.
After a few minutes, he felt a small shiver course through the tiny body in his arms, and he looked down on her. Tears had begun to stream from her eye. Anton stopped and just looked at her. It was like holding a young baby, in that you had no idea why it cried. But at least she wasn’t wailing like an infant, just silently sobbing.
Then Lilly opened her eyes and looked up at him with quivering lips.
“He’s not dead, right?” She spoke, her voice frail and fragile. “I can still bring him back, can’t I?”
“… I don’t know. Who are you talking about?”
Once again, Lilly clamped her eyes shut and refused to say anything else. Anton started walking again. After a few more minutes, they emerged into the open street, and Anton stopped dead in his tracks. He stopped right where they ended, not a single foot print to be seen anywhere else. New snow had probably fallen and buried his prints, and now there was no way he’d ever be able to find his way back. Suddenly, he felt his legs tremble a little bit, coupled with a sharp feeling of nausea.
Muttering a few curses, he sat Lilly down on the side next to a wall before sitting down himself, putting his back against the wall.
“Looks like we’re lost…” He said, more to himself than to Lilly, as he observed that was descending over the skyline of buildings. “And the sun is almost gone. Great.”
Of course, Lilly didn’t respond. Anton sighed in frustration and an attempt to hide his fear. He shuffled slightly in his seat, and when he did, pain shot up through his neck, reminding him of the bite from earlier. He quickly place a hand over it, and found it almost covered in blood. In his rush of adrenaline, he forgot all about the wound, and now he was paying the price.
“… he feeds on love, I can save him…”
Anton heard Lilly mumble something to herself, but he couldn’t make out all of the words. For some reason, the bite wound was bleeding too much for such a simple wound, and him ignoring it for so long was causing him to become faint. He pressed his hand against the wound, but the blood wouldn’t let up.
Slowly, he felt his body go numb, and the rays of the setting sun started to blur together with the bright snow. He turned and tried to talk to Lilly, tried to get her to look at him and see what was happening, but she was all wrapped up in her cloak, idly muttering, not present at the moment. She was far away in her own delusions, and soon, Anton thought, he’d be too.
He fell on his side, and his head hit something soft and warm. He had enough consciousness to guess that it was probably the pony, and he hope that his tumble didn’t hurt her.
As Anton let his eyelids slowly fall shut, his thoughts went to his brother, and there they remained until there was nothing left but darkness.
Willow huddled close to the modest camp fire in front of him. The night had come faster than expected, and he was glad that he had the Stalker next to him. Not that Willow wasn’t able to take care of himself, if he had to, he’d fight until the last drop of blood, but he still dreaded the thought of spending a night alone in this goddess –forsaken city.
They had taken shelter in the remains of what had once probably been a school house, hidden deep within its walls. Searching the building had been a harrowing experience, and Willow expected to be attacked any second, ready for something to jump out at him at every corner. He was jumping at his own shadow, while the Stalker seemed completely unbothered by the situation.
Willow guessed that he’d gotten used to crawling through dank corridors, that checking at each and every door had become second nature.
After they decided the building was empty, Crescent had selected a class room at the end of a hallway at the third floor, where he instantly begun stacking the dusty old school benches in front of the window, to conceal their fire. One window remained clear, and from there they could see the playground and the street beyond it, as well as the entrance to the school itself.
For a while, Willow sat in the window and observed the dark world outside, hoping he’d see something, maybe a movement in the street. He felt guilty for loosing track of Anton, and hoped he was still alright. He wished for a miracle, to see the human stride down the street, maybe with Lilly in tow, or anypony that wasn’t out to kill him.
When no one showed up for a good long while, Willow had made his way back to the fire and sat down opposite of the Stalker.
He looked over at Crescent, who was busy trying to push more debris into the fire. Willow would’ve thought it impossible to start a fire in this place, a place filled with nothing but the ruins of a once glorious metropolitan city, but the Stalker still managed to surprise him by finding some old furniture and clothing, both of which were put to use in the fire.
Crescent was busy pulling off his saddle bags and cloak, which Willow jokingly thought looked more like a mare’s dress. As he watched the Stalker on the other side of the fire, he couldn’t help but wonder about the others, especially Lilly. He hoped she made it out alive and unharmed. The Pegasus couldn’t explain why, but the moment he saw that pale blue little unicorn, he’d taken a liking to her.
Something about her just hit him, and he hoped that they could remain friends when they made it out of this ordeal.
If they made it out.
But if Duskshine was in fact as dead as Crescent claimed, he worried how Lily would handle it. He enjoyed her company, but he still barely knew her and had no idea how she’d react to such a loss.
Still in his thoughts, Willow barely noticed Crescent’s gaze meeting his own.
“… Here.” The Stalker said, tossing the dress-like cloak over to Willow. “It’s not much, but it’s wool, so it should keep you a bit warmer.”
Willow was still deep in thought, and didn’t have enough mind to capture the thing. It just hit him straight in the face, and he instantly toppled over as a result, flinging his hooves about in defense. Willow heard the Stalker chuckle as he straightened himself back up again.
“Thanks…” The Pegasus whispered as he wrapped the dark green piece of cloth around him. When he looked back up, he saw Crescent rummaging through one of his bags until he apparently found what he was looking for, and pulled it out.
“What’s that?” Willow asked as the Stalker carefully held a small instrument in his hooves, one which Willow had never seen. He was used to a guitar, but this instrument was all but foreign to him. It looked like a small, golden bow shaped like a U, with several strings drawn through the middle.
“This-“ Crescent said before pulling his hoof across the strings, producing simple yet sweet notes. “Is a lyre. Or a harp, as some ponies would call it. You’ve never seen one before?”
“No.” Willow admitted. “I know how to play a guitar, or banjo, even violin and drums, but a… lyre? No.”
“Just as well.” Said the Stalker. “They were a rare sight back in the day. Even rarer now. Damn shame.” Crescent went quiet for a few seconds before he tossed another piece of wood on the fire. “I don’t even know how to play the damn thing…”
“Then why would you carry one with you?”
“It’s a long and boring story.” Crescent answered. “Probably not worth your time, boy.”
“We’ve got all night. I’m not going anywhere.”
Crescent sighed and shrugged in defeat. He held the musical instrument close to his chest when he spoke.
“Before… this. Before the snow, before this winter… it used to belong to somepony very close to me. Her parents gave it to her when she was a young filly, and she never stopped playing it. Every morning she would wake up and play together with the sunrise, and every evening she played when the sun went down. Saying she was a natural at it would be an understatement; I still believe no better musician ever lived in Equestria. How the hell she managed to play such beautiful music with just a few strings… is beyond me.”
“So… where is she now?”
The Stalker shook his head. “Don’t know. You know what Ponyville is, right? That’s where she lived. That’s where I lived, too. Isn’t it strange that Canterlot is our capital and not Ponyville? I mean, the second one sounds much better, much more fitting for a city of stature, don’t you think? At least it’s still standing, thankfully.”
“I never thought about that before.” Willow said slowly. “But I suppose that… might make sense. Now it’s some sort of… Stalker Headquarters, right?”
Crescent nodded in response. “Yeah, but most call it The Heart now. Anyway, back in the day when the snow had just begun to fall. Ponyville got hit bad. Just like the rest of Equestria, we weren’t prepared for something as silly as snow in the middle of summer. The wheatherponies did all they could, but those damned clouds refused to go away. When the snow built up, that’s when ponies started dying. Froze to death. Starved. It was hell, let me tell you. Yet it was nothing compared to what we have now.”
“It hit our farm as well.” Willow said. “I think it kinda made my dad a bit… crazy. All day he would thread back and forth ‘round the farm, trying to understand what was going on, while I was left to do most of the chores.”
“Didn’t your mother help you?” Crescent asked the Pegasus, who responded by shaking his head.
“I’ve never met her.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. You know, you traveled with my group for... what, a few months? Yet I still know nothing about you, it seems…”
Willow pursed his mouth and tilted his head to the side slightly in response. Crescent remained silent for a while, and then got up to grab another log for the fire.
“Anyway…” Crescent said, continuing his prior story. “You know those fanatics that tore through Equestria? Those beasts calling themselves The True Believers? When they came to Ponyville, naturally they tried to take control of it, but no matter what they did, they failed. You know why?”
Willow shrugged and shook his head.
“Because one single pony stood up to them and refused to give up. One little mare who didn’t want to see her hometown in flames. And when she did, others soon followed her, me included, and after many weeks of hard struggle, they gave up. We had outlasted them, but there was no celebration. Too many had died defending the town. Good ponies, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. They all fought and bled and died together, all because of that one pony that stood her ground against evil. I already adored her before it all happened, but after it…”
Crescent slowly trailed off into silence, and Willow could see something within his eyes. A sense of longing, but also sadness.
“Did… Did you… love her?” Willow asked cautiously.
Crescent instantly light up a smile. “Of course I did. And then… sometime after the final siege, she… left. One morning she was just gone, no word, not even a good bye. All she left was a note addressed to me and me alone, saying she ‘was needed’ in the north-east.”
The Stalker threw a glance to the right, and Willow followed his gaze. First he saw nothing, but after a few seconds, he could make out the silhouette of the tower in the distance, the one adorned by the giant pony head in bronze.
“Said she was needed here. In Manehattan.” Crescent concluded as they both turned back to the fire.
“So… does that mean that she…?”
Crescent nodded. “She could still be here, yes. It’s only a matter of finding her.” He turned to Willow with a stern look on his face. “And I will find her. That’s why I carry her lyre, so that I will never, ever forget her. Without her, I wouldn’t even be here in the first place; I’d probably be dead alongside the thousands of other Unicorns slaughtered in The Fade.”
“Why?” Willow asked. “You’re not a Unicorn.” Crescent averted his eyes at his question, which Willow found odd, but he said nothing more about it.
“She’s the reason I became a Stalker. I wanted to help the ponies of Equestria and make a stand, just like her… But I’ve learned over the years that in order to fight evil, you sometimes have to become evil yourself. ”
“What will you do when you find her?” Willow asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Probably hug her.” Crescent said quietly. “Hug her and never let go of her again... What about you? Got somepony special?”
Willow couldn’t hold in a timid chuckle. “Heh, no. No, my life has been nothing but work and chores, no time for mares. Besides, me and dad lived so far out in the wild, there wasn’t a single pony than us for miles. I remember once when I was younger, you know, stupid teen, wanting to rebel and all that. Dad walked in on me one evening when I was… you know.”
Willow mimicked a stroking motion with his hoof, and Crescent chuckled at his display.
“Know what he did? He took a look at me and said that lingerie magazines are crap and that I needed me some Playcolt instead. And then he just left like nothing ever happened. And there I was, staring like a jackass with no idea what had just happened.”
Once he was done, Willow joined Crescent in his laughing, but soon a sombre feeling fell upon Willow’s shoulders.
Noticing this, Crescent asked: “You miss him, huh?”
Willow nodded in response, but said nothing. Crescent slowly nodded as well.
“Right. Try to get some sleep now; we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. If we can find the others that’s great, but if not… then it’s best if I just get back to The Heart. You could come with me, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
“Good night, Crescent.” Willow said, on his side and wrapped as best as he could into the cloak.
“Yeah. Night.”
Crescent sat awake for a long while, keeping close watch of the sleeping Pegasus and keeping the fire alive and warm. He couldn’t sleep after he told the story about the lyre. As much as he appeared calm and collected to Willow, it was just a façade that he kept up. The memories of her were painful, and he felt like crying whenever he thought of her. He didn’t, he just kept it bottled up deep inside, somewhere in a shelf filled to the brim with jars of his tears.
That was something he read in a book, long ago. A technique of putting your fears or worries in containers, boxes, chests or cabinets. Containers that only existed within your own mind. You could lock everything away deep within your own mind, and only face it when you yourself decided to open that lock and let it out.
The name of the book eluded him, but he remembered some parts of it. It had been some thriller about a family of ponies stuck in a haunted hotel during the months of winter. The technique with the containers, or in Crescent’s case, jars, was something that one of the characters had said to the family’s little colt whenever he felt afraid of the ghosts in the hotel. As silly as it was, Crescent tried it, and found himself capable of storing his sorrow and tears in countless jars and bottles in an endless room filled with shelves, somewhere in his mind. He rarely entered that room these days. Only on nights like this one.
Somepony like him couldn’t be seen crying. He was of high rank and status, the commander of his own group, he couldn’t be seen in tears, it would make him look weak in front of his Stalkers. And he couldn’t cry in front of Willow either. Maybe he wasn’t a Stalker and they hardly knew each other, but right now, Crescent was all that the young Pegasus had. Without him, Willow wouldn’t make it a day alone. Crescent had to remain strong, had to remain a rock and a pillar of support.
He rarely talked about her. Not even his own group knew about her, just Sawblade. Crescent often thought that a leader shouldn’t have any secrets to his followers, but then he always told himself that they all probably had more secrets themselves, and that his didn’t matter anyway. They were his friends, but some things should just be left alone. She was one of them. The island that still haunted his dreams was another.
Unlike his tears, he wasn’t able to shut away neither her, nor that island. Goddess knows he’d tried, over and over.
“Mind if I join?”
Crescent’s eyes shot open and his ears peaked as a raspy voice registered in his head. Out of instinct, he rolled around tin the snow without making a sound, and stood up to face whoever had just spoken to him. His years of training at The Heart had not been wasted time.
Before him stood a second pony partially hidden by the shadows on the outskirts of the fire. It looked to be a big stallion, but his face had been concealed by the hood of what looked to be a grey parka, and a big sort of duffle bag rested in his back. Although Crescent couldn’t see his eyes, he felt them pinned on him.
“Who are you?” Crescent hissed between his teeth, trying to not wake Willow. “Show your face.”
“Oh, come on…” The other pony said with a sigh and pulled the hood of his face, revealing a face without mane and a pair of deep, blue eyes. He only had one ear, with a nasty scar where the other should’ve been.
“Sawblade, you-!” Crescent fought the urge to push the other Stalker to the ground, but at the same time, he was relieved to see him.
“Made you shit yourself, did I?”
Sawblade tossed the bag down next to Crescent before plopping down by the fire.
“Found this supermarket.” He said. “Managed to scramble together some canned food and a couple more coats and blankets. Thought they might come in handy.”
“How did you survive?” Crescent asked cautiously, his eyes pinned on the other Stalker. “The explosion, I mean. Me and Willow got lucky, I guess, but I don’t know about the others…”
“I wasn’t actually that close.” Sawblade responded. “Phantom told me to wait outside, guard the entrance just in case. Said he was going to handle everything. A few moments later the wall cracks and buries me under rubble. I guess it knocked me out, because when I came to, everything was quiet as a grave. I got out and ran into the room, and there where bodies, blood, ashes and soot everywhere. What did he do anyway?”
“He used his magic to ignite a generator, blew the entire place sky high.”
“Oh, fuck.” Sawblade muttered under his breath.” Did he make it out? I didn’t see his body, so maybe he did. Unless Phantom was that dead Changeling, he might’ve made it out alive.”
“That was Duskshine.” Crescent said.
Sawblade went quiet as he watched the flames dance in front of him. Crescent did the same, and as the two friends sat together in the comforting light of the fire, things didn’t feel as hopeless anymore.
After a while, Sawblade turned and grabbed the bag he’d brought and zipped it open while Crescent watched with curious eyes. He reached his hooves inside and pulled out a second jacket and tossed it to Crescent.
It looked almost exactly like the one Sawblade already wore, except that it was grey, rather than dark blue, and seemed to have a slightly larger hood. Crescent pulled it on slowly, glad that it had sleeves which warmed his fore legs. Together with his cloak and saddle bags, he’d remain nice and warm.
Sawblade pulled a third jacket from the bag, this one brown and much longer than the other ones, more like a trench coat, with thick fur lining. Crescent looked over at the sleeping Willow, and estimated that with his size, the coat would probably cover most of his tail and hind legs. Good way of keeping him warm as well.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sawblade asked, also observing the Pegasus.
Crescent hesitated a while before he answered. “I don’t know. Sure, he’s got the will to fight and survive, but… I don’t think willpower is going to save his life.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, right?” Sawblade said back to him. “To help and protect others. We should take him with us to The Heart.”
“I told him I would, but I… I don’t think he has what it takes to be a Stalker. But I forced myself to tell him otherwise. I don’t like to tell lies, Sawblade.”
“I don’t like rum, but I still drink the damn thing.” Sawblade responded. “And don’t give me that look. Fine, bad example, but you get my point. Some things we just have to do.”
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, my mind is too thick with worry right now. Doubt I’ll get any sleep. You get some shut eye if you can, and I’ll take watch for as long as I can.”
Sawblade did as he was told without arguing. Once Crescent reminded him of sleep, he instantly felt drowsiness wash over him. He’d been pushing it away for too long, only focusing on taking the next step. Now that he let his guard down, surrounded by friends, he finally let his mind wander off into sleep.
Unbeknownst to both Stalkers, Willow had been wide awake and heard every word they said. What he had heard made him feel hurt, and betrayed by somepony who was supposed to support him.
The Pegasus didn’t get any more sleep for the rest of the night.
Bucket felt warmer than he’d ever recalled doing. It was a soothing, almost healing sensation, the warmth that had enveloped his body, yet soft and smooth like purest silk against his skin. He never wanted it to end.
The little pony rolled over on his back from his prior position on the side, and felt the comforting blankets follow his body as he did. He stared up into a wooden ceiling, and with a deep yawn, he stretched his hooves up towards it.
His limbs no longer felt numb, and he could hardly even feel the pain in his leg anymore, where the arrow had hit him earlier. It was strange, he remembered the arrow, and he remembered the pain, but the moment he woke up his mind had completely shut out all existence of it, and he didn’t notice it until he tried walking and collapsed.
As he laid there in the cold snow, feeling his eyes well up from the pain in his legs, he suddenly felt a strange tingle down his spine. As if somepony was watching him. He’d been right, and that was the reason he now laid nestled into a warm bed, staring up into the ceiling, where the rays of sun shining through the window caused particles of dust to dance before his eyes.
Bucket wondered if it was oak. Or maybe spruce.
Even though he wanted to just remain there in that infinitely comfortable bed for as long as he could, he told himself he couldn’t stay for too long, that he would have to leave as soon as possible. Still, no use in denying the comforts he was offered for as long as he stayed.
So after feeling awake enough, he removed the blankets and slowly crawled out of the bed. The moment his hooves touched the floorboards, he could feel his entire body craving to return to the blankets and that soft pillow.
The room that he was in wasn’t the nicest one, but it still felt like home, in an almost cosy way. Apart from the bed, there was also an open fireplace on the opposite side of the room, in which a warm fire still roared. Next to it sat a couple of dusty old shelves filled with countless books and parchments. Bucket wished he had the time to read through every single one of them.
A little ways to the left of the fireplace stood a desk, brimming with everything from parchments and papers to quills to inkwells; basically everything you’d expect from somepony doing a lot of writing in their spare time. The top shelf of the desk was covered in candles and melted wax which dripped down the edge in frozen formations that made him think of icicles.
Covering the floor was a beige rug, adorned with strange patterns along the sides and in the middle, as well as images of leaves and vines. On the walls hung various paintings, and even a map of Equestria.
Bucket couldn’t for the life of him understand how the pony living in this house could have it so well, when the rest of the land was in such an horrendous state. He’d never seen a house with so many things, so much to see and explore and touch and smell. As he slowly walked towards the door leading out of the room, he envisioned this as the last homely house in all of Equestria.
He wasn’t sure if the thought was soothing or not.
When he exited the room, his nose was instantly attacked by a myriad of smells, all of them wonderful. He found himself standing in a small kitchen, and the smell was undoubtedly coming from a group of pots of varying sizes, all cocking on a stove right to his left. The air was thick with the fumes and so many smells that it almost made his head spin.
He took in a deep breath of it all, and felt the sensations fill his throat and lungs before evaporating into his body like a coating of pleasure. It took him a few seconds to even notice the pony standing next to the stove, a unicorn, stirring a ladle in one of the pots with a faint blue glow of magic. She had her back towards him, and didn’t seem to notice him. Regrettably he pulled himself out of the daze that the smell had put him in.
Bucket cleared his throat to make his presence known, but she didn’t seem to notice it. He tried it again, louder this time, but still no reaction. Just a calm motion as she stirred what he guessed was some sort of soup.
Completely dumbfounded and unsure what to do, Bucket cautiously made his way to the table that sat in the middle of the room, pulled out a chair and took a seat. When he did, he noticed just how old the mare before him looked. Her legs where thin and scrawny, spindly even, and her coat could probably have been blue at one point in time, just like her fading mane. He figured she might have a hearing problem.
As he sat there, observing the old mare, he tried to understand just how she managed to get him here. He remembered very little of the event, just the pain in his leg, and the feel of being dragged and tossed around, after the pain had gotten the better of him and caused him to pass out. Maybe she was stronger than she looked, if she could bring him here. Then again, she was a unicorn, and maybe her magic could handle it.
Bucket looked around the room a little bit more, but there wasn’t much odd to notice about it. It looked like any kitchen, albeit one full of food and various appliances, tools and utensils. She looked to have it good here, and food seemed to be the least of her worry. Whoever that was possible. To his right, he spotted another door, one which he guessed was the front door of the house, and next to it rested an old coat hanger, on which a dusty Stetson hung.
In the corner of his eye, he barely noticed movement from the stove.
“Oh! You’re awake.”
Her voice was a deep one, which took Bucket by surprise, not at all as weak as the rest of her body looked to be.
“Yeah…” Bucket said slowly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just-“ He began to stand up mid-sentence.
“Sit down, sit down!” The old mare quickly responded, waving with one of her hooves towards him. “No guest of mine is ever rude.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Bucket said before sitting down again.
“So what’s your name, dear? Oh, and before I forget, mushrooms or corn? Never mind, you can have both.”
“Bucket, ma’am.”
“What kind of a name is that, now?”
“That’s what my friends… call me.”
“Not a very nice nickname, is it?”
“Suppose not. Never liked the name my parents gave me, anyway.”
At the last words he spoke, Bucket found his eyes traveling downwards, where they eventually plastered themselves to the table. He never talked about his parents, and was at a complete loss of words as to why he told her those things. Besides himself, only one other pony knew his real name, and he knew that Crescent would take it to his grave unless he told him otherwise.
“I’m guessing it has something to do with flowers?”
Bucket looked up at the old mare when she spoke to him again. First, he didn’t even want to respond to her question, but realized that would be rude. He sure didn’t dislike her or the generosity she was showing him, but it really wasn’t any of her business, his former life. Still, he opted not to be rude and nodded solemnly.
“Thought so, what with that cutie mark and all.” The old mare said with a smile as she pointed the magically floating ladle towards him. “It’s a rose, right?”
“… A bouquet, actually. Of roses, yes.”
“Oh, come one now, no need to look so gloom!”
Bucket’s heart skipped a beat or two when a bowl of soup slammed down on the table in front of him. Some sort of stew, and it smelled heavenly.
“Eat up, dear; I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time. Food always helps, one way or the other.”
The mare took a seat in the chair on the other side of the table, and watched his reaction with that big, reassuring smile that hadn’t left her lips since she saw him. Slowly, Bucket dipped his head down over the bowl and took another breath of the smell fumigating from it. No more than a second later, he grabbed it and let the first gulp flow into his mouth. His eyes instantly shot open as so many sensations coursed through him the moment it hit his tongue.
He couldn’t hold back and almost gleeful smile.
“That’s what I like to see!” The old mare chuckled. “Good, isn’t it?”
Bucket placed the bowl down and wiped his mouth with a hoof, and couldn’t do anything but nod. “It’s… it’s amazing. How did you do it?”
“I’ve always had a hoof for cooking. A dying art nowadays, I’m afraid. No pony but me to enjoy the flavours.”
“Oh, I wish that Crescent and the others could’ve tasted this, ma’am…”
She gave him a wondering look. “This Crescent-pony… seems important to you. A… lover, if I may ask? You said her name in your sleep.”
Bucket shook his head. “Crescent isn’t a mare. And no, we’re not lovers…” He once again found himself staring at the table, this time down into the bottom of the now completely empty bowl.
“But you wish to be?”
“I…” Bucket suddenly felt the urge to deny everything she said, and a desperate need to get away from her. His friends wasn’t any of her business, least of all Crescent, and his thoughts about him.
“I should probably go, I-“ He made a move to stand up.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend you.” The mare said quickly. “Please, stay a while.”
Bucket sighed, and sat back down again. “Fine.”
“Maybe you could tell me what you were doing all alone down by the river, hm?”
“We got separated. Me and my friends.”
“And Crescent was one of them?”
He nodded. “He’s our leader. The leader of our group, I mean. We’re Stalkers from The Heart, and we were tracking these… footprints.”
“You don’t really look like a Stalker.” The mare said, smiling again. “You’re a bit too small.”
Bucket shrugged. “Then we were ambushed by Bleakers and ran towards the river, I was shot, and… I don’t remember anything else other than waking up later. I don’t even know if the others are alive…”
“They might be, if the Bleaklings took them.” The old mare said. “But all the way out here? They rarely come here; they usually stick to their territory. The closest is up in Manehattan, a couple of days away. They sometimes drug their prey to carry them longer distances.”
“How do you know all that?” Bucket asked, raising his eyebrows in wonder.
“I have my ways.” The old mare responded, and for just a moment, Bucket thought he could see something else in her, hidden behind her smile. Something much darker.
Bucket gave her a long look before speaking. “You’re… an odd mare, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard that one before, dear.” She responded with an almost sorrowful laugh. “In my youth, I was… quite famous. Or infamous, I should say. Oh! That reminds me! Wait here.”
She quickly stood up and hurried across the room to a cupboard close to the door. Her magic opened it up, but Bucket couldn’t see past her what was inside. She rummaged around for a while before turning around and walking back to the table, now levitating a small bundle of cloth in her magic, which she then set down on the table.
“What’s this?” Bucket asked as she slowly unwrapped the odd package.
She averted his eyes from him when she answered. “You’re not the first Stalker to cross my way, little colt. Many years ago, another one came to me, offered his services. I was old even then, and I suppose he felt some sort of obligation to help an old mare like me out. He would come by every week with supplies and the gift of his company. He was a gentle colt, always polite and well-mannered. Much like you, in fact.”
Bucket watched the contents of the bundle spill out unto the table. He found himself staring into the blank, expressionless eyes of some sort of mask.
“But then one day, he never showed up. So I went out looking for him, and found him by the river, just like I did you. He was badly injured and on the brink of death, but I brought him back here and did my best to nurture him back to health.”
The longer she talked, the more Bucket noticed a change in her voice. Subtle at first, but then more and more tangible. It was clear that the memory still plagued her.
“I did what I could, but… In the end, it wasn’t enough. He left these as a memento for me, to always remember him by. Come on, let me see them on you.”
“What? No, I- I couldn’t possibly-“
She ignored his protests, and the following minute Bucket remained still as she dressed him with the help of her magic. First she draped an old tatter cloak over him, and despite its apparent old age, the smell of wool was still strong and fresh.
Then, she forced the mask on his face. The moment it slid shut, his breathing changed into a loud wheezing, like that of a gasmask, but it was still surprisingly easy to breathe. Saddle bags strapped around his back, accompanied by several other bags, pouches and gadgets around his legs. She wrapped the blanket that it had all been in around his neck, and finished off with pulling the hood of the cloak over his head.
“There…” She said slowly. “Now you look like a true Stalker, my dear.”
“Ma’am, I can’t possibly accept this-“
“Oh, shush. It’s a gift; you wouldn’t want to turn down an old lady, now would you? You’ll need it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can get to Manehattan in a day or two.” The mare said. “You’re going to find your friends, are you not?”
“Well yeah, but I- Why give it all to me? Your last memories of that other stallion...“
“You’ll have more use of them than I will.” She responded before signalling him to follow her to the main door. “If you leave now, you might catch them before they even reach Manehattan, provided they’re slow.”
“I don’t… This is moving a bit too fast for me!“
The mare stopped. “You remind me of him.” She whispered carefully. “I’m sorry if I’m a bit too pushy, I just… I don’t want to see another dead colt. Especially not one so much alike him…”
“Who was he, anyway?” Bucket asked, his voice somewhat distorted by the mask he wore.
“… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. His name was Mystical Duet.” She looked Bucket straight into the eyes. “And he was my son.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, it must’ve been terrible…”
“Indeed it was, little colt. Now please, don’t make my heart break a second time; take what I’m offering you and save your friends.”
Bucket nodded slowly. “I will. Thank you.” He made a cautious move towards her, stretched out his arm. “May I…?”
The old mare nodded as well, mimicking his response. Without another word, Bucket reached forward and gave the mare a hug. He felt sorry for her, knowing what she’d been through, and the fact that she would give away her memories in such a way to a complete stranger, simply because he reminded her of her son.
“I’m probably not cut out to be a Stalker…” Bucket whispered. “To tell you the truth, ma’am, I only joined because…
“Of course, I understand.” She said back to him before she broke the embrace. “Now go, find Crescent.”
“I will. And once I do, I’ll come back to see you again.”
“Just tell him what you really feel. Don’t waste your opportunity to be happy, or you’ll live the rest of your days as a miserable, lonely stallion with nothing but regret.”
“I promise.” Bucket turned his head to look at the door. It was enveloped in a faint blue aura of light, and slowly drifted open before him. Carefully, he took a peak outside. Not surprisingly, he saw nothing but white snow covering the ground and trees surrounding the house.
“By the way, you never told me your name, ma’am.” He took a few careful steps out into the snow, feeling the presence of the old mare behind him. He was sure was was standing in the doorway behind him.
“Oh, my name was forgotten a long time ago, little pony.” She said with a meek chuckle.
Bucket took a few more steps into the snow, but didn’t turn around to look at her. The cloak flowed around his legs in the light breeze, and he was glad that it was thick enough to keep him warm.
“Once, many years before you were even born, things were different.”
The air being sucked in through the mask felt clean and fresh, completely eliminating the usual sting that the cold brought with it.
“In those days… I was both great and powerful.”
“What-?”
Bucket turned around, and was left staring in confusion.
In front of him was nothing but the old remains of a cabin, partially buried in deep snow.
There was nothing but darkness ahead. Thick shadows pulsated like the veins of a living being, something from another dimension. Something with maws a big as the world itself, and it could swallow her whole any second. But it didn’t. It remained still and silent, waiting for its prey to make the first move. Just a few steps into the dark, and it would snap shut, its teeth burying themselves in her body.
But if she stayed in her place, it couldn’t do anything. Despite this otherworldly creature being the most ancient being ever to walk the earth, its belly big enough to swallow the planet, it was still dependent on the prey coming to it, not the other way around. It wanted her, no, needed her to step forward into its gaping mouth.
The longer she stared into the darkness, the more she felt something within her slip away, slowly but surely leaving her.
If sanity was a tangible, visible creature, it would be dragging behind her in a thin, bloody string. Like a feetus clinging to its mother.
The thought disgusted her, and almost instantly she felt a rising urge to run blindly into the darkness and escape that sickly creature hanging on to her, that writhing mess that was left of her sanity.
With a deep sigh, Lilly entered the darkness in front of her.
It enveloped her, drowned her in its abysmal depths.
Every little sound became as loud as a battering ram, every sensation felt alien and terrifying. Her hooves clonked hollow against the floor, which she guessed was concrete, echoing loudly through the vast nothingness, bouncing off of walls that didn’t exist within the shadows. Her ears started to hurt from the constant noise, and she didn’t even feel her own body kick into gear. Never felt her brain telling her to run, never felt her legs work spastically to get away.
She ran as fast as she could, her body pounding in pain together with her beating heart, and she could almost feel the streams of warm blood trickling through her, and she could feel something tugging on it. Something within the shadows that hunted her, something that made her blood want to rip out of her body and leave her empty.
Her entire body ached and she felt herself starting to go numb, and the only thing she could think of was getting away, getting away from the darkness and back to him. Where she would be safe.
Then without warning, something gave way and Lilly tumbled forward like a ragdoll. She kicked wildly in an effortless attempt to keep her balance, screamed in pain when the side of her head slammed against something hard. Then she fell.
At first, she thought it was her body giving in and going limp from exhaustion or fear, but it wasn’t she understood right after she hit her head that she had tripped over something on the floor, and was now falling downwards. A hole in the darkness that pulled her deeper down.
She hardly had time to finish the thought of whether or not this would be her last moment alive, before she slammed hard into the ground As she did, she could’ve sworn she heard her back crack, and nothing but a weak hiss came out of her throat before she started to moan and cough.
And still, there was nothing but darkness. Lilly rolled around on her stomach, her back numb from the pain. But despite the shadows surrounding her and her growing fear and pain, her situation had now changed dramatically. She’d been stupid, careless. Like a scared little filly, she’d been running from nothing but her own phobia and that stupid behaviour had now landed her in a truly dangerous situation.
Cringing, she managed to pull herself up on her hooves, and looked around her out of instinct to see where she’d fallen. Nothing but darkness. She cursed herself for being so childish and immature. Maybe Duskshine had been right that day back in Ashcraft. She did act like a stupid little foal.
Ashcraft. Life had been so simple back then. Back home.
She looked up in the hopes of seeing the hole she’d fallen through, but again, she saw nothing but black. Straining herself, she did her best to focus every bit of attention into her horn. It hurt a lot more than she thought, and she almost lost her concentration, but she managed to hold on long enough for a few sparkles to burst forth, followed by a faint blue light.
It wasn’t strong, but it was enough to give her a momentary view of the ceiling above her, where a big hole gaped down at her, but she couldn’t see further up into it. Her light was too weak to spread beyond the darkness above, but now she could at least see that it was too far up for her to reach. She’d have to find another way back up.
She reared up on her back legs to see further up.
Ashcraft. Home
Her light started to fade as her concentration wavered
That one time Duskshine tried to kiss her.
Her head started to spin and pound and her horn sent out more sparkles.
Anton.
She lost her balance as the light died out and she tumbled backwards. Yet again she landed on her back, and this time she couldn’t hold back a scream of pain. Quickly she got back on her hooves. Anton was the reason she was even in this situation in the first place. He’d saved her life; she couldn’t just let that favour go unpaid. Especially not with the state he was in.
Again, she focused herself into her horn, and the pale blue light returned. It painted a barren floor around her, no more than a few meters before the darkness became too strong. She couldn’t see any walls, just the endless darkness surrounding her tiny bubble of light.
Lilly spun around, and found herself face to face with a wall. An actual, concrete wall, not one made of shadows. It was a barren as the floor, with a few dusty cobwebs dotted here and there. Very big cobwebs.
Just as she started to imagine what kind of spiders would’ve made those webs, she heard the sound of hoof steps. Right behind her. She gasped and spun around in fear, and lost her magic light in the process. What she saw in that fraction of a second was enough to send her trembling backwards into the dusty wall.
Light, careful hoof steps. Like the gentle pitter-patter of a foal.
After a few moments of complete silence, Lilly dared herself to fire up her horn again. The instance she did, a scream pushed itself out of her throat before she darted off to her left.
She’d seen it, and it sure wasn’t a foal, or even a pony for that matter. Least, she hoped it wasn’t a pony, but it looked an awful lot like one. The moment her light touched upon it, it had scurried away from her, but she still caught a good look at it. It had walked upright on its hind legs with its fore legs hugged close to its chest. It looked bent over, crooked in a way she couldn’t explain. But the head had been the worst.
Just a swarming mess of what looked like dozens of thick, hairy spider legs that twisted and moved.
She ran through the darkness yet again, but this time she wasn’t running from a childish fear, but from a very real threat. With some strained effort, she managed to shrink her bubble of magic light into a beacon that shone right on front of her, focusing all her strength into it, making it that much more powerful and bright.
And she could see clearly. All around her, those creatures emerged from the dark, their spindly legs reaching out to her as she passed them.
It was almost too much for her to take, and she felt a strong urge to just crawl up into a ball inside her cloak and hope that they’d leave her alone. But that would probably only make her an easier target for them to wrap in a cocoon of silk.
Lilly rounded a corner and headed down a narrow hallway. When she looked up, she caught a glimpse of what looked like a pony hanging above her, lifeless and thin like a twig, strung up in the cobwebs of those creatures. She forced herself not to think about it and focused only on running and keeping her light going.
She could hear those things behind her, screeching loudly. It reminded her of wailing infant foals, and it made her sick to her stomach.
Seeing the end of the hallway approaching, she started to panic. It was a dead end, she had nowhere else to run. Just as she was about to stop and turn around and accept her fate, she saw the handle of a door sticking out from the wall on her right. The door was covered in so much cobweb that it was almost impossible to see, but it was her only chance.
Not thinking ahead of what might hide behind it, Lilly threw her entire body into the door, and it came open instantly. She tumbled inside, her horn now dark again from the impact, and slammed the door shut behind her. In a moment’s notice, the creatures started to bang on the other side of the door. Lilly, who was trying to catch her breath, shrieked and pushed her own body against the door, rammed her hooves into the floor and tried to hold back the tide of disfigured bodies hurling themselves against the thin metal frame.
Each new bang against the door sent Lilly’s body into ripples, and the back of her head hit the door over and over as the vibrations caused it to shift.
“Oh, please, help me…” She whispered to herself, her legs starting to quiver and buckle under the weight. “Celestia, Luna, anypony, please… Willow, Anton, help me!”
No help came, and the creatures became more frantic in their assault. Any moment they would burst through the door and overpower her. Lilly’s heart raced a mile a minute, and she was too weak to cast her magic light again.
“Please, help me!”
The door gave way. Lilly screamed as the weight of dozens of bodies pressed down on her.
She kicked as much as she could into the darkness, hoping to at least take one or two of them out. Hooves grasped at her, wrapped themselves around her and tried to hoist her up from the floor, but her kicking and flailing made it difficult.
Long, thin appendages groped around her face, and the realization of what it was sent Lilly into a fear-fuelled rage. The hairy legs tried to push into her mouth and nose, poked at her eyes and dug at her ears in frenzy.
Lilly twisted her body spastically, threw herself back and forth in an effort to roll out of their grip. She felt one of her hind legs touch something, and through her own rabid writhing; she heard a body fall to the floor.
But the creatures refused to give up, and the spindly legs begun to engulf her entire head instead of just touching and poking it. It was trying to smother her, or worse.
With a loud scream, Lilly pushed herself up, up into a sitting position. The thin legs instantly crawled into her mouth, and she bit down on them hard, causing some foul liquid to pour into her mouth as the legs tore off. The creature they belonged to screeched in agony, and in the assuming commotion, Lilly pushed herself to the side and finally fell out of their grasp.
And so she ran. With tears streaming down her face, she ran, but didn’t get far. Her hoof smashed into something and she fell forwards yet again. Her entire body hit something hard and spiky, and pain enveloped every inch of her. She pushed back up and continued on, realizing that she’d stumbled on a staircase, one leading upwards.
She followed it until it stopped, then turned to her right where she felt it continued, and ran.
Three flights, four flights, five, six.
Hallway up the seventh one, something grabbed her hind legs and pulled. She yelped in surprise and fear as she was dragged down the stairs by one of the creatures. Her hooves slammed against the steps to get a grip, then to the side to find some sort of railing to hold on to, but nothing was there.
Instantly, the creature was on her, but this time, she was ready.
With a roar of pain and frustration, Lilly curled herself upward, twisting her body up and away from the stairs. She pushed herself forwards and over the creature, causing it to reach for her and topple backwards with her.
The pair of them tumbled down the stairs, and Lilly tried to use the creature’s body to protect herself from harm. The rolled over the floor and came to a stop when they slammed into a wall, and Lilly instantly moved to get up and keep on running. She got only a few steps away when the creature once again threw itself on her.
From the force of the impact, Lilly stumbled to the side, and felt the cold steel bars of what she assumed was the railing hit her. She spun around frantically as the creature climbed all over her as if it was trying to encase her. Just like a spider.
Lilly started to jump in place, buck her hind legs as hard as she could, but it refused to let go. She rammed her back into the wall, but all she got was a muffled moan of pain as the creature clanged unto her. Again, the spindly, thin legs started to grope at her face.
Seeing no other options, Lilly rushed forward in the direction she hoped would be the railing.
With another yelp of pain, she hit it straight on and her fore legs bent from the pain. The creature’s back slammed into the railing, finally letting go off her. Through the darkness, she could hear its frantic shrieking as it clamped itself to the railing.
Lilly turned around and kicked the railing as hard as she could. Her hooves connected with several thin legs, and screams of agony filled her ears. She kicked again, and again and again, until she couldn’t feel her legs any longer.
Panting, she heard the creature fall, its screeching echoing loudly between the walls. And then nothing but complete silence.
She darted back up the stairs again.
A massive headache grew in her as she hurried away, and she tripped and fumbled her way through the dark. After a while, she thought she’d come long enough to not be in any immediate danger, and took just a moment to stop and catch her breath.
Hesitantly, she let magic flow through her horn again. Not enough for her to be spotted, but just enough for her to see in front of her. There was a doorway, leading into an hallway that seemed to resemble the one she came in through.
Quickly, she made her way through the door.
After what felt like an eternity floating through space and time, Lilly emerged on the other side of the darkness, and she collapsed on the floor the moment she felt the shadows let go off her. She remained on her side on the cold floor; panting and wheezing when she finally could control her body again, felt exhaustion build up in her. The darkness remained behind her, and before her, nothing but bright light.
She blinked slowly, trying to focus her eyes against the wall of light.
Daylight.
She had made it through the night, and was now staring into the rising sun. It shone through the broken glass of a window at the end of the hallway, particles of dust floating slowly through the rays. Lilly pushed herself up from the floor, and lumbered her way over to the window.
In the brilliant light of the golden sun, the snow-covered world on the outside didn’t look as terrible anymore. Crystals in the snow sparkled in the light, giving the street in front of her an almost magical look. The snow and ice wasn’t terrible anymore, and the barren and filthy walls of the buildings didn’t look intimidating at all.
It was beautiful.
If only he could’ve seen it…
She turned from the window as memories once again forced themselves upon her, causing her body to shiver ever so slightly. Lilly blinked away the tears that had almost built in her eyes. It had been a rough night, but she’d made it. And now she was all alone in the frozen wastes. No one to look after her, no friends by her side. Completely on her own.
Lilly took a quick look back at the darkness she’d just traversed, and felt her insides twist the moment her eyes touched upon those terrible shadows. She pulled herself away from it, and hurried down a doorway to her left, deeper into the maze of corridors and rooms that she felt hopelessly lost within.
But she had to keep going. She couldn’t stop or turn back now, not ever. She had to be strong. For herself, but also for him.
It was strange, what she’d felt within the shadows earlier. Never in her entire life had she been afraid of the dark, despite knowing the horrors that in this time and age could lurk beyond them. Darkness had never bothered her like it would other ponies.
Things were different now, though. And so they would always remain. Different.
Every new room she entered, every hallway she snuck through, silence followed each and every move she made. It was a pressing silence, one that almost hurt her head. The kind of silence that was so deep that it felt loud to ones ears. Oppressing, in a way. A silence packed with both fear and anticipation. Fear for what would be around the next corner she rounded, fear for what might hide beyond the next door.
Yet, anticipation for what she could find. Something that could help her in her current endeavour.
She pressed on through the narrow hallways. She crept up dusty old staircases and crawled beneath windows to remain hidden.
Eventually, she snuck up to a door with a rusty old sign hanging above it. It was old and covered in dust and cobweb, and so she couldn’t make out the writing, but the thick, red cross on the side was unmistakable.
She took a peek through the doorway, and deemed the room secure to enter. Inside, she found rows and rows of dusty tables of cabinets, some toppled over and broken, others covered in webbing. The tables blocked her way, and she had to resort to crawling underneath them to get through. The cobwebs that instantly touched her face almost made her fly into a panic, but she managed to calm herself down. She was alone in there, she was sure of it.
As she emerged on the other side, she took a few seconds to shake the dust and webs off of her cloak before venturing deeper into the pharmacy. Cabinet after cabinet she examined, finding bottles of medicine and drugs, covered in labels she couldn’t understand. She’d never seen anything like them before, but decided that she wouldn’t need them anyway, and turned her attention away from them.
With help of her magic, she managed to pry open something that looked like a clothes cupboard, an inside, she found something she could use. A tattered old saddle bag hung limply from a hook on the side of the cupboard, covered in age-old dust.
She grabbed it and pulled it down, opened it up to examine it closer. When she did, she could hardly contain a squeal of joy.
The satchel was full of gauze wrappings. Exactly what she needed.
Lilly carefully closed the bags again, and proceeded to wrap it around her body. It took some fidgeting to make it work together with her cloak, but after a few minutes of struggling, the beige old bags hung snuggly on either side of her body.
For a while she stayed in the deserted old pharmacy, going through cabinets and cupboards, but found nothing of actual value besides a blank can with no labels, which she suspected contained some sort of food. Once she was done, she crawled back under the tables and hurried out through the doorway.
After a few more minutes of silent sneaking, Lilly emerged into a massive room that spread out before her like a cathedral, and several rows of empty chairs and tables stood lined in the middle of the room, further enhancing the image.
Up above her head, a big hole gaped through the ceiling, casting an almost ethereal beam of light straight downwards, encircling the chairs below. Ice hung from the edges of the hole, making her conjure up the image of teeth inside her mind, an almighty maw about to rain down upon its non-existent disciples.
Lilly crept forward, taking care not to step too hard, as the sound would probably be amplified through the room’s empty corners, and that echo could be enough to tell anypony in the near vicinity that she was there. Or anything, for that matter.
It was first when she was close enough to the chairs to see the properly that she realized that they weren’t empty as she had first thought. Dried and withered bones rested in some, others just piles of dust. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the full skeleton of a pony, still sitting in the chair he or she had died in.
She couldn’t help but feel disgusted, but she walked towards the skeleton anyway. When she came closer, her eyes met the hollow openings that once housed the pony’s eyes, now nothing but empty space. Its head hung limply back over the chair, its jaw hanging open, giving an eerie look, almost as if it was smiling at her.
There was something about that skeleton. Something that seemed to draw her in, call to her. Without even realizing that she had done it, she was sitting down in the chair next to it, staring at it. She’d seen several dead bodies earlier in the Bleakers hideout, but at the time she’d been in some sort of adrenaline and fear induced trance, and the things she’d seen just a few hours ago didn’t even feel real to her anymore. More like distant nightmares
But the skeleton was real. So very real. The perfect image of everything, right there in front of her.
Death.
Nothing but death. That was her world now. In a way it had always been her world, that death, but now more so than ever. For the longest time, death had belonged to Equestria, to other ponies.
Now it belonged to her in full.
Lilly slowly turned herself towards the dried construction of bones that once had been a pony like her. A living, breathing creature.
“Whoever you once were… I’m sorry that this happened to you. I’m sure you probably didn’t deserve it.”
The skeleton remained quiet.
“Or maybe you did deserve it.” Lilly said, turning away from it again. “Maybe you were nothing but a ruthless killer or rapist, and justice found you. You could have been a Bleaker. Or a Stalker. But I guess that in the end, who we are doesn’t matter anymore. We’re all going to die anyway.
She stood up from the chair, wiped her eyes and threw one last glance at the skeleton.
“Maybe I’ll see you again someday. Maybe you could tell me what happened to you.” She took a few steps away from the gathering of chairs. “Or maybe we’ll both just wither away into dust. Because who we are, or once were, has no value anymore. Nopony cares about you or your life.”
Lilly made her way to the other side of the room, towards a dark doorway in which the door hung askew on only one hinge.
Death belonged to her in full.
“Nopony cares. ‘Cause we’re all devils on the inside.”
It had chosen her the moment that it took Duskshine away from her.
She stepped through the doorway and let the darkness engulf her. This time, she felt no fear of it.
The trio had been up immediately at the break of dawn, and after a quick breakfast consisting of the canned food that Sawblade had found, the group covered up the campsite and hurried their way out of the dank hallways and dusty rooms of the abandoned school. All of them dressed in the jackets that had been provided by Sawblade, the group of ponies set out into the streets.
Upon leaving, the two Stalkers had talked about their next move and what would be best to do, finally deciding that leaving the town would be the smartest choice. Willow wanted to protest, but kept his mouth shut, and quietly hoped that the others were still alive and well, hoping that perhaps they got the same idea and that they would meet somewhere along the road.
Willow shuddered slightly as a particularly strong wind blew across his legs.
“I say we try for the nearest train station.” Crescent claimed from his place in the lead of the trio. “We could follow the tracks, and if we’re lucky they’ll lead us right out of town.”
“Maybe.” Sawblade responded, keeping an eye out for trouble behind Willow. “If the bridge hasn’t collapsed into the ocean, that is.”
“Well, the Bleakers must’ve used something to get into town.” Crescent said. “I doubt they used any sort of boats.”
They said nothing more, and kept on traversing the frozen streets with the silent agreement of doing what Crescent said. Willow felt both surprised and thankful that they didn’t encounter anypony else, despite walking for hours on end. The sun was already high in the sky when Crescent told the others to stop.
“I’d forgotten just how big this damned city is.” He said with a sigh. “I’m hungry. Anyone else?”
Both Willow and Sawblade nodded and agreed.
“I think I saw a store just a little while back.” Sawblade said. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple minutes to get there. Might have some food or supplies left.”
“Good, let’s go.” Crescent said, and the trio turned back the way they came.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their location, and they hurried inside just as a strange feeling of unease snuck up on the group. At first, Willow felt a bit of excitement when they explored the building, but that initial feeling soon became distant, and he started to become more and more worried and anxious.
“Well… this is hopeless.”
Crescent’s head popped up from behind the counter of the small shop that the trio of ponies had been scavenging through, a look of disappointment plastered on his face.
“What do you mean?” He asked Sawblade, who was leaning against the side of the empty doorframe leading back outside, observing the frozen wastes of snow.
“This.” Sawblade replied. “There’s nothing of use left here, the place was picked clean a long time ago, probably by some other Stalkers. Whatever used to be here was taken to The Heart years ago, I’d say.”
“Says you.” Crescent said back to him before diving back behind the counter again. “I found myself a new pair of goggles!” A beige hoof shot up in the place where his head had just been, a pair of shiny goggles that looked almost identical to his old, broken ones, resting on it.
Sawblade sighed. “We should leave before we’re spotted.”
Willow, who had been entertaining himself by kicking about an empty can on the other side of the room, perked up when Sawblade spoke. “Spotted by what?” He asked, cautiously. The can rolled away from him and hit the counter with a low clank. “More Bleakers?”
“There are far worse things than Bleaklings out there, boy.” Sawblade said.
“Like Banshees.” Crescent filled in, still crawling and rummaging around behind the counter.
“That’s just an old pony’s tale meant to scare foals.” Sawblade quickly responded, unexpectedly raising his voice a bit.
“I highly doubt that.” Crescent said as he stood up, the new googles hanging loosely around his neck, and placed his fore hooves on the counter, crossing them over each other “And you’d be a fool not to believe in them.”
“Oh, please, you’d be a fool if you did believe in those stupid things.”
“You know perfectly well that I already am a fool.” Crescent hopped over the counter and made his way over to Sawblade. “Besides, Red believes in them, and I trust his word.”
“Believed, not believes.” Sawblade said sternly.
“Fine, fine. My point still stands, and so does my belief.”
Sawblade muttered something inaudible under his breath.
“What was that?” Crescent asked.
“I said that you only believed him because you slept with him.”
Crescent’s posture seemed to somehow change, shift altogether as the realization of what Sawblade had said sunk in. On the opposite side of the room, Willow’s eyebrows raised so high they almost left his forehead.
“You... You knew?” Crescent whispered slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
Sawblade scoffed. “Of course I knew.” He turned his face towards Crescent. “Everypony knew, Cres. C’mon, it was obvious, the way you two acted.”
“So everypony knows I’m bisexual?”
Sawblade nodded.
Crescent pinned his eyes on the floor. “…. Well, damn it.”
Without another word, Crescent turned his back on Sawblade and meandered his way back to the counter, where he unceremoniously threw himself on the cold stone floor with his back resting against the counter. A few seconds later, Sawblade sat down next to him. They sat there in silence for a good long while before either of them spoke.
“What happened between me and Red, that…” Crescent said slowly. “It was just a momentary thing. We were both drunk and lonely and just… things happened, things we both regretted afterwards. It was just a stupid mistake.”
“But you liked it, didn’t you?” Sawblade said, his voice bearing just a hint of a teasing tone.
Crescent gave his friend a long look. “…. Why do I call you my best friend, you big fuck?”
“Because you love me.” Sawblade said with the tiniest of smiles.
“Ha, you wish. You know I’ve got somepony else now.”
“That I do. And that pony is a real klutz.”
“Oh, shut up.” Crescent said.
“Can’t even walk a straight line without tripping over.”
“But she’s one hell of a good flier, so shut up.”
Sawblade smirked. “Did I hit a touchy subject, Cres?”
“Yeah, maybe you did.” Crescent answered before turning away with an almost childish pout over his lips.
“Come on, you know I’m just messing with you. But you have to admit, she’s clumsy as all hell.”
Crescent didn’t say anything back.
“Alright, I’m sorry.” Sawblade said. “Come on, it’s not like you to be this way, Cres. I’m sorry, okay?
His apology fell upon deaf ears.
“Fine, she’s a good flier, probably one of the best, and I promise not to make fun of her anymore. Alright?”
Crescent suddenly snickered quietly.
“What so funny?” Sawblade asked.
“You really fell for it, huh?” Crescent said, turning back to him, the previous pout now replaced by a wide smile. “You know I’m not a grumpy pony, but you fell for it.”
Sawblade rolled his eyes. “Asshole.”
Another moment of silence descended upon the duo.
“Hey…” Crescent whispered. “Remember… Remember that one time last year, when Specter was sleepwalking?”
Sawblade chuckled. “Yeah, of course I do. Damned idiot walked straight into a blizzard in the middle of the night.”
“When we woke up we all panicked and started searching for him…”
“And found him stuck in a thorn bush!” Both Stalkers said in unison, before chuckling quietly.
“Then Stomp got stuck in the thing as well when he tried to get his sorry ass out of there. They sure weren’t happy ponies at that time.” Crescent said with a smile, followed by a heavy, deep sigh. He turned his head to Sawblade.
“How did we ever end up in this damn mess?” He asked. “Where did we go wrong?”
“I… Guess it all started with that human, Dust? The king. Everything went to shit quickly after his death.”
“No, not like that.” Crescent said. “Not on that… grand scale, no. I mean us. You and me.” He made a gesture, pointing his hoof back and forth between them. “What are we doing here?”
“Because it’s our duty to help and protect.” Sawblade responded. “We swore that sacred oath when we became Stalkers, to always do good.”
“What we’ve been through lately goes far beyond the call of duty. What the hell did we do wrong, Sawblade? What did our friends do to deserve their fate?”
“I don’t know…” Sawblade said before tilting his head backwards, staring at the ceiling with intent. “Shit, Cres. They should be here, all of them. Specter, Red, Stomp… They should be here.”
Crescent nodded solemnly. “And Bucket… Phantom.”
“And… what about…” Sawblade began, carefully, as if he was afraid to finish the sentence. “… What about her?
“I suppose I’ll never see her again.”
“You may, Cres. One day.”
“And until that day, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.” Crescent said.
Sawblade pushed him to the side, just a little bit. “Oh, fuck you.”
“Love you too, buddy.” Crescent responded before giving Sawblade a nudge back. “… Wait a minute. Is it just me, or is something not… right about this room suddenly?”
“What do you mean?” Sawblade asked.
Crescent looked around the room and then slapped himself in the forehead. “Just a minute ago, we were three. Now there’s just the two of us. Willow’s gone.”
“Oh, crap.”
The Stalkers quickly rushed to their hooves.
“You let your guard down for one second and the brat instantly runs off! Willow!” Sawblade shouted before running into the back of the shop, leaving Crescent to follow in his trail.
Before he did, however, he took a quick peak out the door. The street outside was quiet and empty, and upon not finding any other traces in the snow leading away from or around the store, Crescent headed back inside.
He entered the same room as Sawblade, but found neither him nor Willow, just a big hole in the floor, a stairwell leading down into nothing but darkness.
“Guys?” He called into the blackness. “You down there?”
“Yeah, we’re fine!” Sawblade’s voice answered after a few seconds. “Come down here! I think you should take a look at this!”
He hesitated for a moment. The previous feeling of unease suddenly made itself known again, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, chilling him to the bone. He really didn’t want to go down there. Something told him it was a bad idea to ever have entered the store in the first place.
“Come on, Cres!” Sawblade shouted yet again.
He took a deep breath, trying to chase away his fears and steel himself. Then he trotted down into the darkness.
After just a few seconds, he could see the bottom, where a pale light illuminated the last few steps and the concrete floor it lead to. Once there, Crescent noted that the light came from a small, square window to the side, at the highest top of the wall. Frost coated the sides of the glass, and a few stray snowflakes landed on it every now and then, but it wasn’t enough to shut out the light.
The room itself was rather big, but as dull as any other. Grey concrete floor and ceiling, same as the walls. With the stairs behind him, there was a collection of scrap and debris in the corner to his right, as well as a steel barrel that had probably once been used to store gasoline. To his right lay a long, narrow hallway.
A very long, very narrow hallway. Crescent almost felt ill just looking at it, a strange sensation reminiscent of vertigo, like the hallway was warping and trying to draw him in.
“Sawblade?” He called out again.
“Just down the corridor!” Came the answer.
“Of course. Great.” Crescent whispered to himself before pushing on down the strange corridor. On one side, nothing but concrete, and the same type of windows lining the top of the wall, these partially buried in snow unlike the other one by the stairs. On the other side was row after row of metal fence and gates.
Crescent guessed it had once been a storage area, but when he looked at them now as he passed them, they looked more like cages. It furthered his worry, and told him he should not be here. The closer he came to the door at the end of the hallway, the more he wanted to turn around. He didn’t want to know what it was that Sawblade thought he should see, he just knew that it wasn’t good.
As he walked, the wire cages ended, and he passed a door on his right, one that was slightly ajar and gave him a glimpse of the barren room on the other side. Instantly, a cold chill ran up his spine, and a distant thought started to brew in his mind.
Something was very wrong.
When he finally reached the end of the hallway, he found himself standing by the door, just standing there, staring and not moving an inch. He felt compelled to turn around, and did so very slowly, fearing that somepony might be behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see the hallway empty. But something was still off, and he suddenly remembered something; a dream he had earlier. He’d been in a hallway just like this, chased through the woods, and…
Her voice. Whispering his name. And then that dreadful face, the white wolf that haunted his dreams. He looked back at the door he’d passed, and to his horror he came to a stark realization; this was the corridor from his dreams. The very same one, with not a single slither of a doubt.
Something was very, very wrong.
Crescent pushed away the urge to run, buried it deep down, and then entered the room. Inside, he stood dumbfounded.
He’d expected something terrible. Something dreadful, some sort of universal horror. But there was nothing of the sort. The room was much bigger than the previous one, probably three or four times, with a thick supportive pillar in the middle. It didn’t look special or different in any way, except… the things on the walls.
Sawblade and Willow both looked at the strange walls in awe, and even Crescent found himself staring. He’d heard of these things before, but to actually see it himself… It left him completely speechless.
“Have ever seen anything like it?” Sawblade muttered under his breath as he approached Crescent. “It’s… I don’t know what to say.”
“…. Yeah….” Crescent whispered.
All around them, covering every inch of the walls, was thick, clear ice. Not normal ice, no, it was clear that this ice was filled with some sort of magic, and they could almost touch the pulsating aura it gave off.
Willow stood still, staring with huge eyes at the things inside the ice. Ponies. Bodies of countless ponies, frozen within the ice, forever stuck in what may have been their dying moment.
“What… happened to them?” He asked, quietly, in a single, shaky breath.
“It’s… We call it a Magisurge.” Sawblade said. “Strong outbursts of magic. During The Fade, these things where common. Unicorns where gathered up and tortured and beaten. From their collective suffering and will to be free, a surge could take place. It’s a powerful wave of magic, fuelled by emotions, magic that could kill everything around it. A sort of defence mechanism, if you will, when the suffering became too great to handle.”
Crescent looked around more closely, and found that every pony within the ice was indeed a Unicorn. Mares, stallions, even foals, all dead and cased within the clear crystal. Some had their hooves raised over their faces, as if to protect themselves. Others seemed to scream and shout in agony, and some just cried quietly.
His eyes then stopped upon one pony on the other side of the room. Crescent’s heart came to a full stop.
“By the looks of this, something went wrong.” Sawblade continued. “The magic backfired, killed the users instead. Look, see that black spot in the middle of the room? The magic probably originated from there, then moved outwards. Probably fast as all hell. It was quick, they never felt any pain.”
“That’s just horrible…” Willow whispered. “I-I wanna leave. Please. I never should’ve gone down here in the first place, I’m sorry. Can we please leave?”
Crescent didn’t respond. He was sitting on the other side of the room, right in front of one of the frozen ponies. Sawblade carefully walked up to him.
“It’s… It’s…” Crescent whispered slowly, his voice flat and hollow.
“Cres? You okay?”
Crescent didn’t listen. He reached a hoof up and placed it against the ice. A few inches apart from the pony on the other side, who was reaching out its own hoof as if to ward off something.
“…. I finally found you.” Crescent said. “It’s me, sis’. It’s Cresentine. I’m here, I’m with you.”
“That’s… is that her..?” Sawblade muttered in shock.
“You left so long ago, without even saying good bye. I missed you so much, but you never came back. I even kept your lyre, sis’…” Crescent leaned his forehead against the ice.
“It’s actually her…” Sawblade looked at the frozen mare, astonished. She looked just like Crescent had described her; her golden eyes, minty mane, and aquamarine coat. Her cutie mark bearing the likeness of a golden lyre.
“I’ve been looking for you for so long… I thought I’d lost you for ever…”
In all the years that Sawblade had known Crescent, he’d never seen him cry. Not once, no matter what happened, he stayed strong, and Sawblade had always thought Crescent to be a strong stallion, even stronger than himself.
“I did all I could, I never left your side. I even gave up my horn for your sake! But you were already gone, little sister… So far gone.”
Now, tears streamed down the Stalker’s cheeks as he wept quietly, pressing his face against the ice.
“…. Lyra.” Crescent whispered, his voice finally breaking and cracking into loud wailing.
His sobs echoed through the cold basement, as the once proud Stalker wailed and cried like a tiny foal, like a pony that had lost all hope to live. The kind of wailing that would make you shatter in a thousand pieces.
Crescent slumped to the cold stone floor, his tears smearing on the ice. Sawblade could do nothing but try to comfort him as best as he could, put his arms around him and hold him. Nothing else besides his crying no longer existed in the world, and nothing else mattered.
He shouted his sorrow into Sawblade’s embrace, screaming and crying his sister’s name.
The Stalkers never noticed Willow sneaking out through the door.
Wind suddenly hit his face. Strong, cold wind, digging its bitter fingers into his skin and chilling him to the bone.
He couldn’t remember what had happened. He couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there. His mind was blank, hollow of all thoughts and dreams, and the biting cold burrowed itself into that void like a parasite
Standing on top of a tall ridge, he could see tall mountains in the distance, dark and grey, their snowy summits tearing through the blood read sky like a jagged blade. Clouds as black as the night itself travelled quickly across the seemingly unending sky, moving in the directions of the mountains.
Below the ridge he saw nothing but an endless sea of white, broken at times by other ridges and rocks, giving an almost realistic illusion of waves across the world below. Cold, stony waves that would shatter anything it touched.
Far away on the other side of the sea, and before the imposing mountains, stood a single solitary spire, reaching high into the sky. He couldn’t make out any sort of colour or details in the thin, tall structure, only the shadows of the clouds passing above it, and the dull red skies mirrored across the spire’s surface.
The more he looked at it, the more he felt himself drawn to it. The spire wanted to pull him in, and he felt a strong urge to oblige to its whish.
His legs moved on their own, slowly carrying him forwards, towards the spire.
Black feathers sailed through the air in front of his face, seemingly falling from the heavens above, dancing across the sky like leaves in the wind.
One of his feet met nothing but air, and the next moment he was falling. He closed his eyes again and waited for the final, sudden stop.
Visions appeared in the darkness covering his eyes. Distorted faces and symbols he couldn’t understand, and more feathers, black as night yet blazing bright like fire. Specks of snow joined them, and his limbs became cold as ice.
In the darkness he saw a man, dressed in black, sitting atop a throne of bones and dust, ashes and skulls. The man looked at him, his face hidden behind a hood. His throat was slit and blood poured down his neck, yet the man grinned widely at him.
He opened his eyes again, and found that he was no longer falling; he was now standing in a small clearing, where the ground was covered in nothing but a thin layer of snow, grass trying to break through the fine white powder. Trees stood aligned around him, forming a perfect circle at the borders of the meadow. They all burned, but gave off no heat.
It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t alone anymore. Two other beings had joined him.
The first was a dark blue creature draped in a black cloak, its shimmering blue hair moving in a breeze he couldn’t feel, and tiny twinkles of light faded in and out across its unyielding hair.
The second was a tall man in black robe, his face concealed behind a hood. The same one that he’d just seen on the throne. Something hung in a string around his neck, giving off a faint light.
Not a slither of doubt existed in his mind as to who the man was.
Mattias.
Who the other one was, the pony, he had no idea, and it looked nothing like the ones he’d seen before. Taller, sleeker, and strangely enough, bearing both a horn and wings.
Behind them the line of burning trees broke, and through it he could see the distant silhouette of the black spire, foreboding and ominous, dark and harrowing, like a final judgment about to rain down upon him.
When his gaze returned to the couple in front of him, something had changed. They started to fade, shift colour. Mattias’ black robe was first, changing into a dull, filthy grey colour, starting down the hemline and moving up like clouds. Same happened to the pony next to him. Soon, both of them had become completely grey, and their facial features now nothing more than bumps in the dusty surface.
He tried to reach out to them, but found his arm not responding to him.
The burning trees suddenly went out, all at once as if a powerful gust of wind snuffed them out, but he felt nothing. The charred leaves pulled away from the trees and soared up, morphing and twisting into black feathers, much like the ones he’d seen when he fell.
He saw the tower in the distance suddenly gleam. A sharp line of light ran through it in an instant, like the swath of a blade tearing through smoke. He couldn’t do anything but watch as the tower slowly crumbled and fell under its own weight.
The air suddenly filled with objects as clear as the sun, bright shards of what looked to be crystal shooting through the air like speeding bullets. Bullets aimed straight for him.
No pain came to him when the sharp crystal pierced his skin, no blood leaked from his wounds. He looked down, and saw his own body being torn to shreds as more and more of the strange crystals cut through his chest and abdomen.
He looked back up, and saw the very same crystals hit his brother. One sailed through his chest like it was nothing, sending a plume of grey ashes flying into the air. Another hit his shoulder, with the same result. Soon, what once had been Mattias crumbled, falling into nothing but a pile of pure dust, same as the strange pony besides him.
He could hear the trees crack and bend around him.
Nothing remained but the feathers and crystals as Anton felt something sharp tear through his skull, and the world blackened.
Anton awoke from his dreams with a sharp inhale that hurt his lungs. He started to cough, and instantly felt an aching pain in the side of his neck. Out of instinct his hand shot up to touch it, but he quickly realized that he was too weak to reach. With a groan he let his arm fall back.
Blinking slowly to rid his eyes of the drowsy haze, he found himself staring at a high ceiling, white and surprisingly clean, considering the things he’d seen so far and the state that this world apparently was in. it was almost spotless, like someone had just recently polished it.
“Ash? Can you hear me?”
The voice came from somewhere to his right. After a few seconds of silence, Anton pushed himself enough to turn his head towards the voice. He gritted his teeth as the pain came back to him, feeling like thin, cold nails cutting into his skin.
A pony was sitting just next to him, its blue eyes observing him from behind a pair of glasses. It bore what looked like a tattered trench coat and held a cup of something steamy between its hooves.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good.” It said, the voice clearly that of a female, but its ragged clothing, coupled with her matching black fur and mane betrayed any sort of femininity. The only feminine thing about her was the scarf that hung around her neck, striped in pink and purple.
“Where-“ Anton tried to speak, but his throat was too dry and he started hacking and wheezing yet again. He felt a hoof tap him lightly on his arm as he did.
“Slow down there, Ash.” The black pony said. “You’re in no shape to talk, silly.”
Once he finally stopped coughing, Anton let his head fall back down on the pillow with a deep, heavy sigh. At that point, he became very aware of the rest of his body, how badly it ached.
“I-I’m not…”
“I’m sure you’re not, whatever it is you aren’t, but try not to talk, okay? You’re lucky to still be kicking, you know.”
Anton looked back at her momentarily. She had an almost goofy smile over her face, but a smile nonetheless, and her eyes seemed to almost practically beam. Somehow, seeing it made him feel just a little bit better and more at ease.
“… I don’t… understand.” Anton managed to push out. “Where am… I?”
“Oh, sorry! I forgot to tell you.” The pony said. “You’re in a hospital. Not just any hospital either, but From Dust Memorial Hospital! An old king built it many years ago, and it’s not actually still in business of course, but there’s a few of us here like me and Topaz who’s kind of mayor, if you can be mayor of a hospital, and we try to keep it up and running as best as we can and apparently you look almost exactly like that old king, and-!”
She shut her mouth in an instant. “Sorry, I got a bit too quick there, didn’t I?”
Anton raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly.
“I tend to ramble a lot.” The pony said. “But yes, you’re in a hospital and have been here for a few days, we’ve been treating your wound there.” She pointed a hoof towards his neck. “It was pretty disgusting, really. Not just regular-disgusting, but closer to blegh-disgusting, and that’s really bad, with puss and blood and all that. So yeah, blegh.”
“… How did I… get here?” Anton said slowly, stifling another coughing fit.
“Somepony brought you in, of course! How else do you get a passed out pony into a hospital, they’re not gonna walk themselves there, right? Or passed out person in your case, I guess. If you walked in here in the state you where in, you would’ve looked like a zombie or something! And the others would probably have killed you instantly. But that’s okay, because they didn’t!”
Once she was done, Anton couldn’t help but stare right at her with wide eyes. She still had that goofy smile, and she looked almost like she was about to jump him and hug him any second. He started to wonder if she was actually telling the truth, or if she was a bit crazy. Probably both.
“… My name’s not Ash.” He managed to say after a little while. “It’s Anton.”
“Really? That’s odd, the filly who brought you in said your name was Ash! Why would she say that? Still, I like Ash, it suits you! An-ton? Anton? That’s a weird name, I can’t pronounce it properly, so Ash it is! Oh right, this is where I tell you my name, huh?”
Anton just stared at her, still confused and dazed. Now more so than before, he thought.
“The others just call me Coal, and sometimes Miss Coal.” The pony said. “They think it’s hilarious, but I don’t, I think it’s mean and rude. It’s not my fault that both my parents happened to have black in their colours! Mom had black mane and dad had black fur, and I just happened to inherent that blackness from both of them, I can’t help it! But, yeah, my real name’s Holly. Actually, my full name is Jolly Holly, but I think you can see why I prefer to be called just Holly. So call me Holly, okay?”
“….Holly?” Anton whispered. “Does… coffee exist… here? If it does, I think… you should.... s-stop drinking it…”
“Huh? Why?” She asked, before taking a swig of the cup in her hooves. “I like coffee, coffee’s good!”
Anton shook his head slowly. “Never mind…” He turned his head away from her, looking back to the ceiling. He groaned again as the pain in his neck came back, and put his forearm over his eyes to shut out the light.
“I should probably be surprised… that you aren’t calling me murderer or y-yelling at me…” Anton began. “… But I’m really not… Wait, did you say a ‘filly’ brought me here?”
“Yeah, a Unicorn. Kinda pretty actually, despite the way she barged in and yelled at us. I think her name was Lilly or something like that? The others were afraid of you at first, didn’t even want to help you, and some of them still are which is why I’m here keeping an eye on you, none of the others wanted to be alone with you since they’ve never seen a human before! Not that I have either, seen a human that is, but I don’t think you’re dangerous in any way!”
“Why not?”
“You have a kind face.” Holly said, sounding surprisingly calm for once. “And I’m pretty sure that that Lilly-pony would kick your ass and mop the floor with you if you did anything to harm anypony. Is she always so angry?”
“I-I don’t know, I… barely know her.” Anton answered. “But I guess we’re even now…”
“Even? Does her shouting like a madpony make you even?”
Anton sighed. “No, I-I saved her life. She was attacked, and I got this wound in the process. I guess she’s saved my life now as well…”
“Oh… Yeah, that makes a lot more sense than her screaming. What happened to you, anyway? What bit you?”
Anton removed his arm from his eyes and gave her another long stare. “… You seem very calm about talking to a freaking human. Aren’t you wondering who I am or how I got here in the first place?
Holly scrunched her face for a moment before responding. “Nope, not really! You’re here now and alive, and that’s good enough for me!” She took a quick glance into the cup she held and frowned. “Aw, no more coffee.” Still frowning, Holly threw the cup over her shoulder, which then crashed into the wall behind her.
Anton blinked in bafflement. “… Has anyone ever told you that you’re-“
“Crazy?” Holly said, interrupting him. “Odd, strange, nuts, whacked, insane in the membrane? Oh yes, all the time! I don’t think I’m crazy, though. I just need more coffee!” She stood up from the chair next to the bed and turned towards the door on the opposite side of the room. “You want anything? A glass of water or something? Ice cream? Not that we have any, but if we did you- Oh, maybe a nice cup of coffee!”
“No, please, not coffee!” Anton exclaimed. “Anything but coffee. Water will be fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself, you grouch! BRB!”
With that, she bolted out the door and disappeared. Anton couldn’t help but stare after her, confused beyond belief. Whoever this Holly was, he was now sure that she had more than just a screw loose inside her brain, but he still thought she was kind of sweet. Completely bat-shit insane, he told himself, but at least nice and polite.
A few minutes passed, and she didn’t come back. Nothing else happened, and Anton found himself gazing into the ceiling, but the longer he stayed still, the more he felt an annoying itch, the simple need to just stand up and do something instead of just lying there. Despite the pain in his neck, he started to feel like a useless sack of crap, and it drove him mad.
Groaning, he slowly propped himself up on his elbows. He took a peek around the room, and found that it looked pretty much like the hospitals he was used to, albeit a little more sparse in its furnishings.
Besides the bed he was on and the chair next to him, there was a small cabinet to the right, and a low table and a rickety chair to the left. The walls and floor where barren, no paintings or rugs or any other sorts of decoration anywhere.
As he managed to spin himself around, he started to wonder if it had all been a dream. Maybe things weren’t so bad on the outside if things seemed this normal here.
He shuddered as his bare feet touched upon the cold stone floor. At least he still wore his jeans, thankfully.
Maybe he was still dreaming. Maybe he was still in the alley behind that café, passed out next to the policeman. Or perhaps that was just a dream too, and he was in bed, sleeping. A part of him hoped that was the case.
His skin started to crawl from the cold, and at the apparent lack of any direct clothing, he opted to wrapping the covers of the bed around him like some make-shift robe. It gave him some warmth at least, and made him feel just a little less exposed.
Anton made his way across the room towards the small cabinet, tugging the blanket closer around his bare skin. Upon opening the first drawer, he found nothing, and shut it before moving to the second, which brought him more luck. Folded neatly inside it was the rest of his clothing. Anton pulled out the t-shirt and hoodie and got dressed quickly.
Once he was done he threw the blanket back on the bed, and then returned to the cabinet to check the other drawers as well. In the third, he found both his leather jacket and the cloak he’d gotten from that store earlier.
The jacket felt cold in his bare hands, but at least it had been cleaned of the excess ash and snow that it had gathered before, out in the streets. Anton brought the jacket to his face and took a deep breath, letting the soothing smell of leather fill his nose. And there was something else, the faint aroma that still lingered, just as it always had. The smell of his brother.
A few moments later he’d pulled on the old jacket and draped the cloak over his shoulders, and took care to not strain his neck too much and at the same time avoided disturbing the bandage wrapped around his throat.
He looked up, and spotted a window on the opposite side of the bed that he hadn’t noticed earlier. The blinds where closed shut. It took him a couple of seconds to walk across the room towards it, mainly because he still felt groggy and dizzy, and a headache had slowly begun to grow.
Still, he felt a burning desire to open the blinds. He wanted to see the outside just to make sure of what was actually there. When he reached the window, he forced himself to stand upright, propped a hand against the side of the wall to prevent himself from losing his balance.
After a few seconds of fruitless fumbling, he managed to grab the string at the side of the window, and pulled it downwards as much as he could. The blinds shot up, instantly letting in blinding rays of bright light that caused him to flinch and the string slipped out of from between his fingers.
The blinds slammed into the bottom of the windowsill with a loud bang that caused his ears to ring. Anton grabbed the string yet again and pulled it, but this time holding his other hand over his eyes to shut out the worst of the light.
He blinked a few times, squinted into the light. His eyes watered, as if he’d been in complete darkness for the longest time, but after a little while, he got used to the sun’s rays. Outside, he saw nothing but tall buildings and empty streets, covered in deep snow and frost. Icicles hung from various buildings, some of them looking to be several feet long and sharp as nails.
On the tallest building of them all stood the head of a pony, but much more horse-like in appearance. It looked to be made out of either bronze, or it was just that covered in rust. Down in the streets, close to the building with the head, he spotted what looked to be a large, forested area, dotted by tiny meadows and a big, frozen lake. To the right, the city ended abruptly into the ocean, and several massive bridges, most of them broken and rusted, connected it with the mainland.
It was like looking at a spitting image of Manhattan. A slightly altered Manhattan, especially in architecture, but very much alike it nonetheless. The more he looked at the empty and hollow city, the more he wondered just how anything could live out there. Or how Lilly managed to survive the night and drag his sorry ass here. Perhaps she was stronger than she looked. Or perhaps his sorry ass was just easy to drag.
When he let the blinds drop down again, though this time controlled and without the loud bang, he suddenly found himself wanting. A craving that started to take hold in his mind, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
“… Fan, jag måste röka…” He whispered to himself before rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
Anton sat down on the bed again with a heavy sigh, and was just about to lie down to try and calm himself when a knock on the door reached his ears.
“Uh… come in?” He said, before raising his voice. “Yeah, come in!”
The door opened inwards slowly, and the first thing Anton saw was a mess of all the colours of the Rainbow, followed by a red face.
“Willow?” Anton said, standing up from the bed as the Pegasus greeted him with a genuine smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking out for you, of course.” Willow said as he trotted over to Anton. “I stumbled upon Lilly and you a couple of days ago after I…”
“After you what?” Anton asked.
Willow’s eyes looked away from him for just a second. “Nothing, it’s not important. Still, I helped Lilly carry you here, and I’ve been keeping close watch on you since.”
Anton sat down on the bed again. “Why? I haven’t done anything to deserve you’re help, I’m just… lost.”
“That’s what friends do, right? Look after each other.”
“… Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” Anton said after a few moments of silence. He’d been taken aback by Willow’s claim. Never did he think that someone who barely knew him would see him as a friend. And a pony that barely knew him, on top of that. Still, it was a comforting thought, having a friend in this strange, broken world.
“So…” Willow said. “What happened? You just disappeared on me and Crescent. Where did you go?”
“Long story.” Anton said before hopping further up the bed, swinging his legs up and resting his back against the wall. Once he’d settled, he told Willow everything that had happened, how he chased down a man who looked like his brother, the wings, the illusion and how he eventually ran into Lilly.
“You’re lucky.” Willow said when Anton finished his story. “You only met one of those bleak ponies…”
“I thought the one was bad enough.” Anton said before he pulled his shirt to the side and gave Willow a good look of the bite in his neck. “He was like a vicious animal.”
Willow nodded his head. “You saved Lilly’s life, though. I’m sure she’s thankful you did.”
“Holly told me otherwise. That Lilly was mad as all hell, screaming and shouting.”
“Holly’s nuts.” Willow said bluntly. “Lilly was screaming, yes, but only because they refused to take you in at first. She told me she never wants to see anyone else die ever again, and that she’d do anything to stop it if she could.”
“See anyone die again?” Anton asked. “Oh wait, I think… I remember her muttering about… someone? Kept saying she could save him?”
“She just recently lost someone very close to her. It was awful.” Willow said.
“You where there? What happened?”
Willow sighed and pursed his mouth. “… His name was Duskshine. I barely knew him, don’t know what kind of relationship he and Lilly had, but she cared deeply for him.” He gave Anton a solemn look. “Those psychopaths cut his throat. Right in front of Lilly.”
Anton had no idea what to say, and just stared at Willow, mouth slightly agape. “I… that’s…”
“Yeah…” Willow said.
“Is that… Is that why she’s so angry?” Anton asked cautiously.
“Maybe, I don’t know. Could just be her way of coping with her grief. Everypony has their way of doing it.”
“And what about you? You might not have known the guy, but still, it must’ve been terrible.”
“How I cope with it?” Willow asked. “I don’t. I just keep quiet, keep it inside.”
They both remained silent for a while, Anton deep in his thoughts. The idea of seeing someone die before him, especially in such a horrible way, made his blood freeze in their veins. It was no surprise that Lilly had acted the way she did, saying that she didn’t care, over and over. She really didn’t care about anything, but then he came along and spurred her on.
“Willow…” Anton said. “Do you… do you think I’m hindering her grief?”
“What do you mean?” Willow asked.
“I mean, what if me getting injured interrupted something? What if her choice to help me and possible save my life got I the way of her grieving?”
“… Maybe. But I’m sure she’ll be fine, eventually. She’s strong, that mare. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“I hope you’re right. The last thing she needs is me screwing her over..”
Willow nodded before speaking again. “Anyway, it’s good to see you’re feeling better; for a while there, we were worried that you wouldn’t wake up.” He turned towards the door. “I’d better leave you alone now, give you some time to rest. I could send someone up to check on you later, if you want to.”
“Sure, thanks.” Anton said, followed by another nod from Willow before he trotted to the door. “Willow, wait! Do you think… you could try and get something for me?”
“Get what?” Willow asked.
“… Cigarettes? Or, you know, tobacco? I really, really need a smoke.”
Willow looked at him, frowning. “I… I have no idea what that is. Sigarets? Never heard of it.”
Anton sighed. ”You sure? Long, thin paper stick, filter on one end, you light the other end?”
“No, no idea what you’re talking about, sorry”
“Damn it.” Anton said. “Fine, whatever, forget it. I’ll manage without. I’ll try.”
“Right. I’ll send someone up in... an hour or two, maybe?” Willow asked.
“Actually-“ Anton said, and pushed himself out of bed. “I’ll go with you. I don’t want to sit here and be of no use, might as well take a look around.”
“I think it’s better if you rest…”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine, Willow!” Just as he said so, Anton felt his knee buckle and tripped to the side and hit his shoulder against the wall. “See?” He said with a smirk. “Perfectly fine.”
Willow rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest. A few seconds later, Anton followed him out of the room.
They emerged into a long, white hallway, and at first, Anton stood perplexed at what he saw. Ponies. Lots of them. Ponies trotting back and forth, other walking and talking in pairs, some even wearing white coats like the ones that doctors would wear.
“You look surprised.” Willow said with a smirk.
“…. I thought this whole town was abandoned.” Anton answered. “When Holly said ‘a few ponies’, I really thought no more than a handful, but this…”
Willow smiled up at Anton as they both walked down the hall. “Maybe things aren’t as bad as you thought. Hell, even I was surprised to see all of this at first. But at least we’re safe here. Protected. Come on, I think Lilly’s in the library.”
“They have a freaking library?!” A few ponies looked over at him to see who was shouting, but instantly turned to look the other way. “Still afraid of me, huh…” Anton whispered to himself.
“Yeah, they managed to save some books apparently. And they said that Stalkers sometimes bring more.”
“Huh.” Anton said. “I never thought Lilly was a book worm.” They rounded a corner and came into a larger hallway, its walls lined with sofas and tables in varying states of disarray.
“Ha, you and me both.” Willow said with a chuckle.
As they walked through the room, Anton suddenly spotted a familiar face. Holly was sitting in a sofa, two empty cups standing on the table next to her, and another one in her hooves. She caught sight of him and waved happily.
“Hey, Ash!” Anton smiled and waved his hand back at her. “You look so different with your clothes on!”
Willow tried to hold back a chuckle, but failed horribly.
“Oh, wait!” Holly said, sitting up straight in the sofa. “I forgot something! Oh right, I was supposed to give you a glass of water, like, ages ago!”
“Don’t worry, Holly, it’s fine-“ Anton tried, but Holly interrupted him mid-sentence.
“Do you want some now? Or maybe a cup of coffee?”
Anton shook his head. “No thanks, I just want to take a look around with Willow here.”
In the blink of an eye, Holly had left the sofa and stood next to them. “Can I come with you? Please, I’m so bored!”
“Sure, if you want to.” Anton said.
“We’re going to the library.” Willow filled in.
“Library? Blegh, I hate books, books are boring.” She turned around and looked back at the sofa she’d been sitting in. “Oh look, somepony forgot their coffee!” She darted back to her cups without another word.
“Mad as a cow, that one.” Willow said quietly.
“… Did you just call her a cow? That’s not very nice, you know.”
“But it’s the truth.”
They kept on down the hallways in silence, running into a few ponies on the way. Some of them greeted them as they passed, obviously nervous or the human, while others just passed them by without paying them any sort of attention.
After a few more minutes, the human and the pony walked into a massive room, bigger than anything Anton had seen so far. It was oval in shape, the ceiling reaching several stories high. Two spiral staircases led up to the floors above, and although they had probably once been shining bright, they were now covered in rust and looked like they’d been repaired numerous times.
The floor was even stranger, with shallow yet thick indentations running across it in a spiral pattern towards the middle. Ponies occupied what they could, some having claimed areas where they had beds or cots to sleep on, as well as other personal belongings and necessities. It made Anton think of a refugee camp.
“This is the lobby.” Willow said. “Shame we never got to see it in it’s prime. They told me that water used to run down the walls and into those spiral lines in the floor. And the library’s this way.”
“You seem pretty well at home here, Willow.” Anton said as they set on down another corridor.
“Well, why wouldn’t I?” Willow responded. “I like it here. We’re safe, there’s food, good company. In truth, I wouldn’t mind... staying here.”
Willow stopped just in front of a door, labelled “Library” with a small piece of tape.
“Yet at the same time…” Willow said in a low voice. “Something doesn’t feel quite… right.”
Anton looked down on him with wondering eyes. “Not right?”
“… Everytime I pass by a window and see the outside, I just… I get this urge to get out there, you know? Maybe it’s because of what Crescent said…”
“Maybe you’re just as crazy as Holly, huh? You must be if you want to get back out there.”
Willow didn’t respond, and instead just pushed the door open. He motioned Anton to enter, so he did, but the pony didn’t follow him. Anton looked back at him with raised eyebrows.
“Actually, I need to head down to the kitchens….” Willow said slowly. “I promised to be there in time.”
“You?” Anton said. “You cook?”
Willow shook his head. “No, I do the dishes. And they give me a an extra portion of food as payment. Anyway, gotta go, look after yourself, alright? Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t yell at Lilly just because she yells at you.”
“Dude, you sound like my mom.” Anton said with a chuckle. “Go, I’ll be fine.”
Willow scurried off and left Anton alone in the library. He took a look around the room, quite baffled at the amount of books they’d stored; shelves upon shelves lining not only the walls, but some standing in the room, creating isles and narrow hallways.
“Hello?” He called out. “Lilly? You there?”
No response came.
Anton sighed and took a few steps further into the library. He passed by row after row of books, but found no Lilly or any other ponies. It was as quiet as only a library could be, and his boots made hardly a sound against the carpeted floor.
He reached the far end of the room, where the shelves had been moved to give room for a table and some chairs. One shelf stood leaned against the wall, its many books scattered around on the floor underneath it. The table itself overflowed with books, some opened, others closed with various bookmarks made from paper.
Sitting on one of the chairs, asleep with her head resting on a particularly large book, was Lilly.
Anton couldn’t help but chuckle at her, the way she snored into the pages of the book. He made his way round the table, pulled out the chair on the other side, and sat down on it. He hopped himself a bit closer to the table, and took a peak across the many books, and upon closer inspection, found that they all seemed to share the common theme.
Titles like “Understanding the land of Nightmares”, “On Dreams”, “Dreams and what They Mean,” and “The Dreamstride” all lay strewn across the table, opened on specific marked pages or paragraphs. Other books bore names like “Crystals and Ice”, “A history of The Empire” and “Spires of the World”.
It all felt a little bit too familiar to Anton, and it instantly reminded him of his own dream.
“Huh?” One last, sharp snore rang out across the room. “Who-Willow, is that-?”
Lilly sat up, groggily, before wiping her eyes with a hoof. She blinked slowly until she could see clearly.
“Anton?” She said slowly, still a bit drowsy. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Willow said you were here, and I thought I might as well join you.”
“Oh…” She looked down at the book, noticing a small stain of what was most likely drool. “Oh, crap.” She tried to wipe it away with a hoof.
“So… Lilly?” Anton asked.
“Hm?”
Anton pointed to the books. “… This. Crystals, spires, dreams…” He looked back up at her. “… Did you see it too?”
“See what?” Lilly asked quickly.
“I saw it, in my dreams.” Anton said. “Red skies, black feathers, a burning forest… and a crystal spire in the distance.”
Lilly didn’t say anything.
“You had the same dream, didn’t you?” Anton asked. “Why else would you be reading all of this..?”
“… I saw him again.” Lilly said quietly. “He came back to my dreams. Duskshine.”
“Willow told me about… about what happened. I’m so sorry, Lilly.”
“He said I should’ve saved him.” Lilly continued. “And then there was someone else, someone I’ve… never seen before.”
“Was it a human in black?” Anton asked. “Lilly?” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Was it my brother?”
“N-no.” Lilly finally responded. “It was another pony, with horns and wings, like the old princesses, but… it wasn’t any of them. It was black and white.”
Anton thought for a while. “I saw my brother. I saw Dust, as you ponies call him. And next to him, same as you, a pony with wings and a horn, but it… it was blue, not black or white.”
“And then the black spire fell?” Lilly whispered. Anton nodded in response. “So we had pretty much the same dream, then.” Lilly concluded.
“Yeah, seems that way. But… It’s gotta mean something, right? I mean, we both shared almost exactly the same dream; do you think it was a coincidence?”
“I don’t know, so…” She motioned at the books, before reaching over and picking up a red book just a little bit off to her left. “So far, I’ve only found this.”
She opened the book to a page somewhere in the middle, and held it up for Anton to see.
“… The Crystal Empire.” He read out loud. “What’s that?”
“Here, look.” She turned a few pages, and stopped at a drawing that spanned both pages. “Look familiar?”
Anton instantly raised his eyebrows as he saw the image. “Yeah… that’s the spire from my dream.”
“And mine.” Lilly added. “And according to a map that’s… buried somewhere in all these books, the Crystal Empire is not far from here, in the mountains to the north-west. Just a few days away.”
“Are you saying we-?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, I…” She closed the red book and put it down. “I’m so confused. Duskshine would’ve known what to do…”
“Lilly?” Anton asked. “Are you alright?”
The pony nodded slowly.
“I’ve been here for days, ever since we came here, I…” Suddenly, without any sort of warning, Lilly slammed her forehead into the table.
Anton quickly got up and moved to her side of the table. He got down on his knees next to her, but didn’t know what else to do. He could now clearly see that she was crying, but he’d never been good at comforting others.
“Lilly… It wasn’t your fault.” He didn’t know what else to say.
She sat back up and looked at him, her cheeks wet with tears. “I could’ve… I should’ve saved him,I-“
“His death was not your fault, I’m sure of it.”
Lilly looked at him for a few seconds. Then her expression changed. “What do you know about that?! Nothing! You weren’t there, you didn’t see it, so just shut up-!”
She flew out of her chair, pushing Anton to the ground in the process. “You don’t know me, you don’t know anything! It is my fault that he’s dead!”
Still crying, she set off running through the library towards the exit.
“Lilly, wait! I’m sorry, I-!”
“No!” Lilly yelled. “You’re not him, and you’ll never be him!”
The door slammed shut, leaving the room in complete silence yet again, and Anton confused on the floor.
The read-haired Stalker looked defeated, done and spent, with his head hanging low and his body language almost breathing failure. Sawblade himself on the other hoof, was tense and worried. In all the years he’d known Crescent, he’d never seen the stallion look so terrible. Not even after he’d been tortured by the Bleakers did he look so destroyed. While the torture might’ve broken him down physically, not emotionally.
Despite the goggles Crescent had found earlier covering up his eyes and his scarf covering his chin, Sawblade could still see some kind of shadow that had crept over Crescent’s face. He didn’t like it one bit. It made him feel wrong, somehow. It was wrong to see his closest friend so demolished without being able to do anything about it.
He sure did try, over and over, but nothing helped.
Three days had passed since they found Lyra in the ice, and after Crescent’s initial outburst, he hadn’t said another word. Not a single sound, not even the faintest whisper. He refused to eat, despite Sawblade’s attempts to make him, and he barely slept. Sawblade had tried to reason with him, yell at him, he tried to force the food down his throat, but Crescent remained silent and just stared at him. What food that Sawblade managed to push into him was either spat out or forced up.
Sawblade didn’t want to think about it, but a fear had begun to grow within him. A deep fear as fierce as the fires of Tartarus. That Crescent had finally lost it. That something had been irreversibly broken within him. It was a terrifying thought that chilled him even more than the cold snow that surrounded them, but still a thought that he might have to accept as the truth.
“We’re going to need weapons.” Sawblade said, more to himself now than to Crescent. “We won’t make it far in the wilderness, otherwise. We could check out some of the old guardhouses, if we’re lucky thee might still be something relatively sharp and usable.”
His words were left unanswered.
“Or maybe a smithy. Shit, I’ll take a pointed stick just as much as a sword. Maybe a frozen cod.”
Crescent remained quiet, and Sawblade opted to do the same, but still be on the lookout. He wondered how many days had passed since the ambush in the woods. Probably weeks, so by now his claymore would be rusting, lost somewhere deep in the murky waters of the river.
As night started to fall once again, they took shelter in an old carriage that had toppled over and now lay buried hallway in deep snow. It was a good place to rest, but Sawblade couldn’t relax. He woke up over and over by what he thought was the sound of hooves in the snow just outside the carriage, but every time he peeked outside, he saw nothing but the empty street.
On the fourth morning, Sawblade estimated he’d gotten maybe three hours at sleep, and while it wasn’t nearly enough, it would at least make him feel a little better. When he turned around and saw Crescent sitting straight up, still awake and with big bags under his eyes, he began to tire of it all.
The following day went along just as the previous ones; slow and tense. Crescent seemed to drag his hooves more every day, and the slow pace made Sawblade unnerved. They were like two immensely slow targets, drifting down the streets. Not sitting ducks; crawling ducks. He could’ve sworn he started to see movements in the corner of his eyes more and more often, and shadows that seemed to shape and shift in the empty windows and doorframes.
A few hours into the day, when the sun stood high in the otherwise clear sky, the two Stalkers walked over the remnants of a small wall, long since destroyed, and suddenly found themselves standing on the outskirts of a cemetery. Snow coated the grave stones and almost buried some of them. They pressed on, with a nervous Sawblade in the front and the indifferent Crescent behind him. More than once did Sawblade stub his hoof on stones that lay underneath the snow that had fallen over, probably before the snow fell.
In front of them on the other side of the graveyard, he could see the ruins of an old church.
“Wanna take a look?” Sawblade asked, not expecting a response. True to his expectations, Crescent said nothing. “Fine. I’ll take that as a yes.” Sawblade added.
He walked towards the church with Crescent in tow, passing by more graves as they went. He read a few names where he could, but most had either withered away from age, or lay partly buried in the snow. Still, he didn’t see any name he recognized. Not that he expected to, but he still wanted to read the names of those who rested around him. It gave a little bit of respite, knowing that others had come before him, and more would when he himself was gone.
No matter what happened, the world kept moving, and time never stopped. Everything changed over time, and no matter the perils the ponies that came before him had faced, they made it through. It gave him some hope that they would one day do the same, and walk out of this terrible winter. Halfway through the dark, he told himself.
Sawblade stopped just in front of the entrance into the church. One of the big oaken doors hung ajar and moved a few centimeters back and forth in the wind, while the other had fallen to the ground and a thin layer of white powder coated it. It probably happened not too long ago, otherwise it would’ve been completely buried, just like the graves.
On the side of the tower, Sawblade spotted a big, rusted heap on the ground. A few crows had gathered on top of it, now fully occupied with cawing and bickering with each other. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the heap was in fact the bell of the church. It’s once clear chiming long since silenced and dead, as it slowly froze into the ground.
When he came to close to them, the crows screeched in fright and took to the skies in one swift motion. He followed them as they sailed in circles for a while, before diving down and settling themselves at the top of the church tower.
The Stalker walked up to the door that lead into the building and tried to get a glimpse of the inside, but all he saw was darkness. Deep and foreboding, a veritable abyss that opened up before him. Sawblade simply scoffed and headed on inside. Darkness had never affected him the same way it would other ponies. He often told himself he had no fear. Even though he knew deep down that it was in fact a lie, it still made him more capable to handle certain situations.
After a few seconds, Sawblade hit a full stop. A wall hindered his path, but he was not the type of pony to give up so easily. Instead, he stood on his hind legs and touched the wall with his fore hooves. Eventually, he found a door handle, tilted it downwards and pushed.
The wall, which had proven to be a door, slowly but surely opened, its hinges creaking and cracking as rust tore off and broke. After a few seconds of pushing and grunting, Sawblade emerged into the main hall, where light shone through the tall windows. He could clearly see particles of dust hover through the dim light.
Row after row of benches lined the hall, just like he’d expect from any church, most seats still intact, though some broken and splintered. The carpet leading from the door to the altar had been covered in a thick layer of dust; making it almost invisible, save from its obvious edges.
The altar itself was nothing special, just an ordinary stone slab, partially covered by veil. It was heavily discoloured, but from what he saw, Sawblade guessed it had once been white or perhaps golden. A rusted figurine laid on the floor next to the altar, and it was still intact, displaying a golden sun with a crescent moon encased within. The symbol of the old sisters that once ruled Equestria.
He took a quick look around, and spotted a low shelf off to the side where a bunch of old candles still stood, next to a dusty lantern. He pulled off his saddle bag and dug into it until he found what he was looking for; flint and steel.
After some frustration, he managed to get the lantern going, and it instantly spread a golden glow around it. Sawblade put the saddle bag back on, and then grabbed the ring at the top of the lantern in his mouth.
When he spun around, he spotted the silhouette of a pony, sitting in one of the benches. His heart skipped a beat and his body tensed up, but he quickly realized that it was just Crescent, staring out the window from where he was sitting.
“Are you going to stay here?” He asked once he’d place the lantern on the floor. “I thought I’d take a look through the tower.”
Naturally, Crescent said nothing.
Sawblade frowned, grabbed the lantern yet again, and hurried down the hall. The dark room that he had previously passed through now became visible in the light of the candle, but it was completely empty except a small staircase on the side.
It took him up into the room above, and it almost seemed even darker than the bottom floor. Yet again, his luck struck out; that room was empty too.
On the third floor, he was stopped by another door, this one locked. He put down the lantern on the step next to him, and examined the door closely. It looked rather weak, not to mention old and frail, probably not able to withstand any serious amount of damage.
He knocked on it first, just to be sure. When no response came, he spun around, tucked in his back legs and then kicked out backwards into the door as hard as it could. It shattered almost instantly, and he landed another kick on it. This time, to door came from off its hinges, and with a loud bang, it fell to the floor.
Instantly, a foul smell reached his nostrils. A thick, pungent smell. Decay. The smell of death. Who knows how long it had been there, unmoving in the stagnant air of the sealed room. He took a few steps forward, hoping that whatever gave off that smell wouldn’t be too bad.
Dead bodies rarely disgusted him or frightened him. He could remember only a few times when he’d reacted to them; the very first body he ever saw, when he was merely twenty-four years old, and a recruit in the Royal Guard.
He still remembered it clearly, the red sunrise in the east on that cold December morning. It was the second year of the Griffin wars, and he’d been sent out together with the rest of his squad to investigate a war camp that had lost contact with the others.
Everything had been red, not just the sky. The snow ran red with blood, and the stench had been almost unbearable. Every single soldier had been slaughtered in what they later learned was a coordinated assault in the dead of night. The enemy had shown no mercy.
One stallion, confirmed as officer some time later, had been mutilated almost beyond recognition, and his many limbs had been skewered separately on spikes just outside the camp. That was the first dead pony Sawblade ever saw, a sight he would never forget, and one that would flash before his eyes when he couldn’t control his temper.
His commander Shining Armor, along with Stardust, Octavia and himself stood in shock and disgust at the scene, no pony able or wanting to be the first one to speak.
Many battles followed in the next four years, and by the end, Sawblade had lost track of a lot more than just how many bodies he’d seen, how much blood that had flowed over his hooves.
Sawblade suddenly felt his hoof hit something on the floor, and it rolled over the floor with a metallic clinking sound. An empty can of food. It rolled away from the light of the lantern and disappeared into the shadows just beyond his vision, before it hit something with a muffled thud and stopped. He had some ideas of what it could be.
A few steps forward and his thoughts proved right. Just in front of him, huddled into a corner, was a pony. It wasn’t moving, and it was obvious that it had been there for a while. The empty can had bumped into one of its hind legs.
He moved forward a bit to get a closer look, but almost instantly he wished that he hadn’t. The Stalker turned away from the body and took a look at the rest of the room. For just a moment as the light spread across the pony’s face, he saw that it was a mare, her hooves tightly wrapped around a tiny figure, wrapped in blankets. The moment he noticed the small, drying mane jutting out from underneath the blankets, he couldn’t stand it.
On the other side of the room he encountered a second door, but unlike the previous ones it wasn’t locked, but instead stood slightly ajar, almost invitingly so. For a second, he thought that whatever was in there would be better than the dead ponies behind him.
Just as he was about to open the door, a sound made his ears perk. A faint rumbling or tapping noise. As if somepony was knocking on a wall. And it came from the other side of the door.
Slowly, he pushed the door open, and the strange sounds stopped instantly, replaced by the screeching of the hinges. He stepped through. The first thing he saw was a chair, toppled over on the floor. A thick layer of dust coated it. And above it, casting long shadows across the floorboard, hung the body of a stallion. The thin noose around his neck had cut into his flesh, and spiders had begun to spin their webs across it.
It was a regular Earth Pony, its body a filthy white hue and its mane and tail had probably once been blonde. His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, as if they could burst out of the stallion’s skull any moment. There was nothing else out of the ordinary with the body, he wore a tattered beige jacket with a hood hanging loosely on his back, a dusty old gas mask hung in a sling around his neck, and a saddle bag around his hip.
Sawblade wondered if the stallion had once been a Stalker. He sure looked the part.
No signs of any pony else being in the room for a long time, and his imagination started to run wild over what could’ve made the sounds. He eventually settled on his mind playing him tricks, and satisfied with that conclusion.
Sawblade walked around the body, careful not to disturb it. Some respect for the dead had to be given. He took one look at the wall behind the pony, and came to the conclusion that the stallion had gone through a lot of pain and grief before the end.
The entire wall was covered in writing, most of it illegible but some of it still readable, and it wasn’t hard to make out what it said.
A few bits of charcoal rested on the floor, which had probably been used to write the words, as well as the final message, almost at the bottom of the wall.
I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry, M---
It didn’t seem too far-fetched that the dead mare in the other room was this M, whatever that meant.
Then suddenly, the tapping sound was heard again. He spun around, almost expecting the dead body to be moving, but all was still and calm. Now, the sound came from the other room, the one he’d just been in.
“Cres?” Sawblade called out. “Is that you?”
No response came, just more tapping.
Carefully, Sawblade moved around the hanging pony and towards the door, but didn’t get far before a second noise startled him. He turned around, and saw that the sound had been that of the saddle bag of the dead pony falling to the floor. It had opened, and something had rolled out of it.
Sawblade instantly knew what the brown stick rolling across the floor was, quickly picked it up and stuffed it down his own bag. You’d never know when a stick of dynamite could be of use. Trying to shut out the tapping sound, he took a quick look through the rest of the dusty old bag, but found nothing else of use besides standard Stalker gear.
So the dead stallion had been one of them, after all. A Stalker that eventually gave up hope. He made a mental note to remember to ask about the stallion when they reached The Heart, in case anypony knew and missed him.
He stood up, and realized that the tapping sound had finally stopped. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. It really went on his nerves, and he was glad that complete silence had returned. With nothing more to gain in the room, Sawblade made his way back through the door, and did his best to avert his eyes from the dead mare and the tiny bundle of rags in her lap.
And then the lantern suddenly went out.
“Ah, damn it!” Sawblade cursed through the handle in his mouth, before carefully placing the lantern on the floor. “Fucking, ancient candle, damn you, you ass…”
He was about to open his saddle bag, when something caught his attention.
The metallic clinking of a can. Rolling across the floor boards.
“C-Crescent?”
He felt the can hit his hoof, and the instantly withdrew it from the cold metal.
A voice whispered into his ear, and his blood turned to ice in his veins. A female voice whispered his name. His actual, real name. He could feel her breath on his face.
No more than a second later, he threw himself into the darkness, found the door and ran down the stairs as quickly as he possible could. When he emerged back into the main hall, and sat down and leaned his side against the wall, panting heavily.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the sounds of hoof steps approaching, but looking up, he realized that it was just Crescent. His catatonic friend stopped in front of him, looked at him with hollow eyes, before sitting down right next to him on the cold stone floor.
Sawblade couldn’t help it, it just happened. He felt so very tired, and his eyelids suddenly felt like lead. His whole body felt numb, and he hardly noticed that he rested his head against Crescent’s shoulder. He felt spent, used and exhausted, despite his body going on high gear just a minute earlier. Slowly he fell to sleep, while a tiny voice in the back of his head yelled at him that something wasn’t right.
A few days had passed since the incident in the library, and Anton had barely seen Lilly since. The few times he did, she’d either looked away or ignored him, even turning the other way when she saw him. He had no idea if her behaviour came from anger or perhaps shame over what she had done.
Instead, Anton spent his time either wandering the many levels of the hospital, or spending time with the only ponies who wanted to talk to him, Willow and Holly. Despite the insanity packaged within that tiny pony, he couldn’t help but enjoy her company, even if she sometimes drove him half mad.
The day after his awakening, she entertained herself by pointing out that he had a funny accent. Over and over and over, all day long as soon as he opened his mouth and reminded her. He wondered if she was so hyped up on coffee that it messed up her attention span or memory. Or perhaps she was just mad as a cow, as Willow so delicately put it.
Still, he found it hard to be mad or feel hurt by what she said. It was just an accident, and as long as he could make himself understood, it didn’t matter to him in the slightest.
Nothing else of interest had happened in the previous days, apart from something that had happened on the night before. Some time in the night, Anton had been woken up by the sound of his door opening. He yawned and rolled around to see who it was, but had only time to see something disappear back out through the door.
He’d gotten up and took a look through the corridor, but found no one else besides himself awake, and quickly hurried back into his room.
The morning after the accent-day, the third since he woke up, he took another walk, this time exploring the lower level of the building. Most of the ponies had gotten used to him by then, and instead of looking at him sideways, some of them would even greet him as they passed by each other, and he’d learned a lot of names in the past few days.
He passed by numerous rooms like the one he slept in, most of them occupied by other ponies, and judging from the number of ponies of varying age he saw, he guessed that this floor housed whole families, unlike some of the others.
When he passed by one particular room, he looked through the doorway and happened to catch the eyes of a pink little foal, sitting at a table with a plate of food in front of it. The moment it saw him, the foal smiled and even waved at him, its face beaming and its eyes glistening like sunshine.
Anton felt his heart melt, and slowed his pace just so that he had enough time to smile and wave back at the kid, before continuing down the hallway. Willow was right; this really did seem like a place worthy of staying in, even though he knew that he probably couldn’t.
Some time after seeing the foal, Anton came to a T-shaped cross in the hallways, with a bulletin-like board on the wall in front of him. He stopped to read it for a little while, pondering how the ponies could write so well without hands. He guessed that Unicorns like Lilly could use magic, but since his arrival, he’d seen very few of them. He’d asked Holly why that was, but whenever he did she would change the subject. Usually to something coffee-related.
A number of signs adorned the wall on each side of the board, directing to different areas of the hospital, such as the main lobby, extra stairwells, the kitchen and infirmary. But one sign caught his attention in particular, one that read “garden”.
He’d already seen the other places that the signs pointed to, most recently the kitchens, which had been much bigger than he expected, with numerous ponies working on preparing meals before packing them in plastic bags. It looked not only oddly industrial, but almost unbelievable, considering the world outside the hospital’s walls.
Amidst the working ponies, he had caught a glimpse of a certain red Pegasus with rainbow mane confined within a hairnet in the back, busy doing the dishes. He tried to wave at him, but Willow didn’t notice him, and Anton had decided to leave.
With nowhere else to go, Anton took the corridor to his right, following the signs that pointed him towards the apparent garden, and after a short walk, he found himself in the strangest place he’d seen since he woke up in the snow-covered streets of the city.
He’d expected an empty little courtyard, dead trees and fallen snow. What he got however, was truly a garden. Beautiful, serene and absolutely green. Rich grass covered the ground, and trees of varying sizes sprouted towards the ceiling, some of the even bearing fruit like apples, pears and even plums.
Tables dotted the courtyard, which was shaped like a perfect circle, much like the rest of the building. For all intents of purposes, Dust Memorial Hospital was shaped as a giant ring, with this perfect Garden of Eden housed within.
Ponies scurried about the place, occupied with their work; some picking fruits from the trees, others tending to vegetables growing in boxed-in squares, everything from carrots to lettuce to potatoes.
But the thing that took all of his attention and left him gaping in awe, was what he saw in the air above the garden. The hospital was tall in itself, ten floors, and at the top, what looked like a massive tarp or sheet had been placed, strung between the walls with wires and ropes, keeping out the outside snow.
And in the middle of the strange contraption, seemingly hovering or floating, was an orb of pure light, as bright as the sun itself.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Anton tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and looked in the direction that the voice came. At first he stood dumbfounded, still taken aback by the glowing orb, and just stared at the pony smiling at him. Then he cleared his throat quickly and spoke.
“Oh, yeah, it’s… It’s definitively something. What… What is it?”
The pony walked up to him, and from the voice and its feminine physique, it wasn’t too hard for Anton to guess that it was a mare. Her orange coat seemed to almost shimmer in the bright light as she walked towards him. Anton could’ve sworn she even swayed her hips in almost seductive fashion.
“Why, it’s the sun of course.” She said. “Not the real one, naturally, but just as warm and bright. You’re Ash, I take it? My name’s Topaz.”
“Oh, so you’re Topaz? Holly told me about you, that you’re the… I don’t know, the mayor or whatever she said.”
Topaz smiled and laughed heartily. “Mayor. I prefer something a little more humble. Let me tell you, that Holly… she’s a bit loopy, but she has a heart of-“
“Of caffeine?” Anton added with a smirk.
Topaz laughed once more. “I was going to say gold. But yes, she’s right; I have the highest authority here, but I’m not some dictator that demands every pony to do what I say. Everyone is free to come and go and do as they please, as long as they follow our rules.”
“Rules?” Anton asked.
“Oh you know the usual stuff; don’t fight or hurt any pony, don’t steal, don’t threaten anyone and just generally don’t be an asshole.”
“I can’t imagine anyone here breaking those rules.” Anton said. “Everyone seems so happy.”
“Of course they’re happy.” Topaz said with another warm smile. “They’re safe and well-fed. Most importantly, they still have hope. Most of them didn’t before they came here, but just look at them now. It’s hard to even imagine that they lived out there once.”
“Yeah, I guess. No offence, but you’re taking this, me, really well. So did Holly, actually. I thought you ponies had never seen a human before? I honestly thought more ponies would be afraid of me.”
“Well, in Holly’s case, I can’t really say anything other than ‘she’s Holly, don’t question it’. Me, I still remember the old king. I was a young mare when he ruled, naïve and, admittedly even childish, but I grew up in Canterlot and saw king Dust Eclipse many times.”
“Dust Eclipse.” Anton whispered to himself. “Yeah, that sounds just like a name Mattias would take.” He cleared his throat again. “So, uh… you never told me how all of this works.” He gestured towards the garden. “Willow told me that nothing grows anymore in Equinestria, so how’s this possible?”
“It’s pronounced Equestria, dear.” Topaz said. “It’s complicated, and I won’t bore you with all the details, but this may very well be the last patch of grass in the country. Do you know what Stalkers are?”
Anton nodded. “Yeah, I had the luck of meeting a few when I first came here. If not for them, I’d probably be dead by now.”
“Alright.” Topaz continued. “A few of them stop by here from time to time, and a couple of years ago a group of them came back with what they claimed to be an object possessed with dark magic, a black orb of unknown material. They showed it to me, and told me that one of the Stalkers had touched it and it burst into blinding light. The Stalker just so happened to be a Unicorn.”
She looked up at the mini sun above them. “So after a long discussion, we decided to let another Unicorn touch it, and the same thing happened. We took it into the courtyard for experiments, and every Unicorn in the hospital gathered to help. All of them used the magic they could muster, and the orb grew in size and emitted a glow bright and hot as fire. It grew so strong that we could hardly contain it, so we confined it to the roof, suspended in several thick wires. And as you can see, it has helped us tremendously.”
“Amazing.” Anton said. “I never thought such magic existed. Hell, I never though magic existed at all!”
Topaz pursed her mouth. “It’s a dying art, I’m afraid. Too few Unicorns left to control it. Equestrian magic is slowly withering away, right before our eyes and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”
They stood silent for a while, both observing the garden and the ponies working it.
“Ash?” Topaz asked sternly. “I realize I may be out of my bounds here, so to speak, since we’ve just met, but could I ask you something?”
Anton looked at her cautiously. “Uh, sure.”
“What will you do now?” Topaz asked. “I doubt you want to stay here for the rest of your life, you must be wanting to go back home.”
Anton looked for an answer for a while, not really sure what to answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I can get back, if this is the same world or a different universe or… I don’t know. I’ve tried not to think about it too much. Frankly, it scares me, not knowing.”
Topaz gave him another warm smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be alright.”
Suddenly, Anton heard someone calling from within the garden, and both him and Topaz looked up to see a blue pony waving at them and calling out to them.
“Looks like I’m needed.” Topaz said. “I better go and see what they want. “It was good speaking to you, Ash.”
“Yeah, you too.” Anton said. “I’m getting tired anyway, might be time to head back to my room.”
The pony gave him a nod and a smile, and then they both parted in different directions.
Just as Anton grabbed the handle of the glass doors leading out of the garden, he heard Topaz call out his name, and turned to look at her.
“You look just like him, you know.” She said. “And you have his demeanor.”
“He was my brother.” Anton said, and then he opened the door and left the garden and Topaz behind.
At first he thought that he could stop by the kitchens and see if Willow was done, but when he looked through the windows and saw the setting sun, he thought it best to try and get some sleep.
On his way back to his room, he didn’t meet any pony he knew, and didn’t see any trace of either Willow or Holly. Lilly was still nowhere to be found, and he started to get worried about her. Still, there was nothing he could do to help when he couldn’t even find her.
When he emerged into the lobby, his gaze landed on the main doors, where a pony had just entered and was busy talking with a mare that looked like a nurse. The newly-arrived pony looked pretty odd, pushing about a big bag and dressed in a tattered grey cloak and some strange mask covering its entire head, a pair of grey ears sticking out of the top of the mask. Several small bags and pouches had been strapped around the pony’s legs.
Anton guessed it was another Stalker, and paid it little attention. He walked through the lobby, nodded at a pony that waved at him as he passed, then made his way up the stairs to the second floor.
Once back in his room, he quickly shut the door, threw his cloak on the floor and crawled into bed. It didn’t take long for sleep to pull him into the land of dreams.
Some time later, Anton awoke from his dreams, disturbed by a familiar sound. The sound of his door opening, just like the night before. Unlike last time, he decided to remain still this time, and wait for whoever it was to make themselves known. He didn’t want to scare them off again.
He could hear the faint sound of hooves carefully sneaking across the floor towards his bed, and then just as it seemed to be right beside him, it stopped.
“… I’m sorry.”
A voice whispered, next to his bed. He knew instantly who it was, and slowly turned around in bed.
Lilly sat next to his bed, looking at him through the darkness. He could see something on her cheeks, and he understood that she’d been crying recently.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” She said meekly. “I just… I’m sorry.”
Anton propped himself up on his elbows to look at her better. “Don’t worry; you don’t have to be sorry. You’ve gone through a lot; it’s okay to be upset.”
She hesitated for a while, and stared into the floor as she spoke. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Anton asked quietly.
Lilly failed to hold back a sob. “E-everything. I don’t even know what I’m doing here and I miss Duskshine so much, and I-“Her voice broke and she started to cry again. “I’m sorry; I’m such a stupid filly, I… I told myself that if I could save you, then-“
“Hey, Lilly, don’t cry, please, it-it’s okay.”
“I just-I thought…”
After a little while, she calmed down, but remained quiet for a good while. So quiet in fact, that Anton almost thought she’d fallen asleep. It wouldn’t surprise him, since Willow said she’d barely slept the past few days.
“Can I…” Lilly whispered, her voice very careful and cautious. “Can I sleep in here tonight? I-I don’t want to be alone…”
“Of course.” Anton said before scooting to the side of the bed. “You can take the blankets, I’ll just use my cloak, okay?”
“Okay.” Lilly responded, and then crawled into the bed.
The said nothing else, and after a while, both had fallen asleep, feeling safer in the company of each other.
Sawblade slowly opened his eyes and held back a yawn. His body felt cold, and his entire left side ached terribly. It took him a few seconds to orient himself, realizing that he was laying on his side on cold stone. He groaned and pushed himself back up, remember where he was. The church, now much darker and with rays of orange light shining through the large windows.
He stood up, and spotted Crescent on the other side of the hall, looking intently through a window. Sawblade clumsily limped towards him, feeling the numbness in his side slowly subside.
“How long was I out?” He muttered under his breath when he came up to the window, and set eyes upon the setting sun. “You should’ve woken me up. If I hadn’t slept this long, we could’ve been out of town by now.”
Crescent slowly shook his head.
“What?” Sawblade asked.
He shook his head again, quicker this time, before going back to stare out the window.
“Fine, whatever. Just do your thing, alright?” Sawblade took another peak outside. “It’s going to be dark real soon. We should probably stay here for the night, keep going in the morning.”
Crescent shook his head again, much faster, almost frantically. Then without making a single noise, the Stalker turned around and left Sawblade by the window.
“Hey, where are you going?” He called. “You’re not… you’re not going outside, are you?”
As an answer to his question, Crescent hurried towards the exit.
“Cres, come on!” Sawblade yelled and ran after him. “Stop it, you can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous at night, even if you’d been feeling well!”
But Crescent didn’t listen and simply kept on through the doorway and into the dark tower entrance. Sawblade groaned and did his best to keep up with his friend.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” He asked into the darkness. “Listen, I know you’re hurting, but there’s no point in being suicidal!
He emerged from the shadows and into the slowly darkening graveyard. Crescent stood A little ways off to the right, looking at the ground with intent.
“There you are.” Sawblade said as he walked up to him. “What are you doing…. Here…”
Sawblade stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what Crescent was looking at. Hoof prints in the snow. Nothing more than simple tracks left in the snow, no big deal. Except that he could distinctly make out more than just the prints of two ponies. Several, in fact.
“… We’re being followed.” Sawblade whispered. “That’s why you want to leave. Because they might be close by.”
Crescent gave a single nod, before yet again setting off. This time, he set his course through the graveyard, quickly trotting towards an old iron gate, and Sawblade couldn’t do anything but follow suit.
“I know I’m going to regret this…” He hurried up and kept even pace next to Crescent. “If you get us both killed out here, I’ll fucking haunt you in the afterlife.”
As expected, Crescent didn’t say a thing, and so once again, the couple hurried down the empty streets of Manehattan.
The sun was setting quickly, and it was getting increasingly difficult to see anything at all, but it didn’t seem to affect Crescent at all. Instead, he seemed to run a perfect track, a line he was attached to and couldn’t avert from. It started to make Sawblade nervous, the way Crescent seemed to know exactly where they had to go.
From time to time he would stop and listen, but otherwise he trotted on, his strange determination clashing completely with his shattered visage and sad demeanor.
An hour of darkness passed, and Crescent came to a momentary halt. He stopped in an intersection and looked back and forth, as if he was waiting for something. Or someone.
“Cres, you’re starting to scare me.” Sawblade said to his friend. “Where are we going?”
Suddenly, Crescent’s ears perked up, and listened intently to the side. Sawblade reacted too, and felt his own body tense as he heard the distinct sound of something behind them. What it was, however, he couldn’t make out. Just a lot of noise, like whispers.
Crescent took off yet again, and it took Sawblade a moment to notice it, and even longer to catch up to him, now that he had kicked into running speed.
After some time running, they both stopped and listened. The sounds from earlier had disappeared, but they still pressed on with high pace. Some time later, Crescent turned from the street and moved towards a building just to the right.
Sawblade followed, hurried after his friend up the few steps that lead to the entrance, which consisted of a set of glass doors, one broken and shattered. Once inside, he instantly recognized the building as a train station, but something was very clearly wrong about the place. He couldn’t see Crescent, and slowly walked further into the building.
The inside of the building was simple, plain and almost empty. A bench lay splintered in the floor, coated in dust. Cobwebs littered the corners and ceiling, and some had been woven like a thin veil across the pale green walls.
Shards of glass covered the floor, and wind howled through the broken windows
He rounder a corner, and caught sight of Crescent a little ways in front of him. He was down on the railroad tracks, peaking out through the opening that lead to one of the many bridges connecting the city to the mainland.
The Stalker moved closer, but froze instantly when he noticed something on the floor on front of him. A broken row of benches ran through the middle of the floor, much as it would in any train station, but it wasn’t the benches that caught his attention, but rather, something on the other side of them.
On the floor, partially hidden behind them, he could see a pair of legs.
When he came closer, he first saw the blood coating the floor, then the rest of the body, and it made him flinch just slightly. It had been torn apart, and the rest of it rested a few meters away from the severed legs. Images of the officer he’d seen in the war came back to him, and he started to feel a little light headed.
The body looked like that of a Bleaker, pale as ice, yet the blood was fresh. Whatever had happened here, it happened recently.
“I really don’t like the look of this…” Sawblade said as he moved away from the body and towards Crescent. “Something isn’t right.”
Crescent didn’t respond.
“Let’s just get out of here, quickly.” Sawblade said, and walked past Crescent unto the railroad.
Just a few meters forward, the ground ended abruptly, dropping down into the ocean. They headed forward, stepping out on the bridge that would take them out of town. It was thick in order to house trains, and several ponies could easily have been able to walk in a line across it.
For the first time since the church, Sawblade was in the front, and Crescent came right after him. Both started to shiver after a while, as the wind from the sea that couldn’t reach into the streets now bombarded them. It was cold, bitingly so, and Sawblade pulled the hood of his parka over his head.
About halfway across the bridge, Sawblade felt the urge to stop.
“Listen, Crescent…” He said. “We-I need to say something.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I get it. Okay? I understand. I’m a cold, heartless asshole, sure, but you’re still my best friend. What happened with your sister was awful, I get that, and I understand that you’re suffering, but… I hate it. I hate seeing you this way.”
He turned around to face Crescent.
“You need to get a grip. You can’t be quiet for the rest of your life; it’s not going to change anything. Do you think Lyra would’ve wanted this?”
No response, not even a change in Crescent’s face.
Sawblade sighed. “Just say something. Anything. Please.”
Nothing.
“Come on, say something! Don’t just stand there, you-! Ponies die all the time, no matter what! Sure it hurts, it hurts like fucking hell, but you know what? Being sad is not going to bring anypony back! You can blubber and sob your shriveled little heart out, but it won’t change anything and you know it! I’m sorry, but you need to accept that she’s gone, and get over it! You can keep your mouth shut for the rest of your life, Crescent, but it won’t bring her back!”
No answer.
“Speak, damn you!” Sawblade yelled, his anger serving as a shield against his own growing worry and fear. “You know what? Fine, don’t say a word! What if I jump off this bridge right here, right now, huh? You’re not gonna say a word to stop me? No you wouldn’t, and do you know why? Because you’re weak, Crescent, and always have been! You always let your emotions get in the way, and others suffer and die because of it!”
Silence.
“Lyra died because of you, because you couldn’t save her!”
Suddenly, Crescent launched at Sawblade and pushed him to the ground. He rolled around and was about to get up, but Crescent was on him in a matter of seconds and pushed him down, his hoof hovering above his face, ready to strike.
“Do it!” Sawblade yelled. “Do it, you pathetic colt!”
Crescent’s hoof bashed his face, and Sawblade’s head jerked to the side from the impact. Instantly, he felt the taste of blood in his mouth. He barely had time to spit it out before Crescent hit him again.
“Come on!” Sawblade shouted between punches. “Show your anger, show your rage!” Another punch cut him off. “Let it all out, shout it out!”
But Crescent remained completely quiet as he kept on beating Sawblade. Without warning, Crescent suddenly pressed his hooves against Sawblade’s throat.
He tried to speak, but the pressure on his throat was too much, and he only managed to wheeze as he stared into Crescent’s darkening eyes.
Then just as sudden as it had started, Crescent removed his hooves from his throat, then rolled off of him like a ragdoll. He rolled over on his back in the snow next to Sawblade, and even though he couldn’t see Crescent’s face since he was still staring up into the sky, trying to catch his breath, he heard that the Stalker had begun sobbing.
Panting heavily and rubbing his sore throat, Sawblade stood up. Crescent was a heap on the ground, legs sprawled out around him, his face contorted as he cried and hyperventilated.
“Crescent, I…” Sawblade began, trying to regain his calm. “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have…”
Sawblade sighed before extending a hoof towards his friend. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
After a few moments of doubt, Crescent took his hoof and slowly lumbered to his hooves.
“There, good.” Sawblade said, brushing off the snow that had gathered on Crescent’s coat. “I’m sorry, I’m just wor-… Just do what you have to do, but don’t give up on me, okay? Do your mourning, but don’t…”
Sawblade looked into his eyes. “Don’t lose sight of yourself, please.”
Crescent looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. Realization struck Sawblade like a ton of bricks; maybe it wasn’t his own choice to be quiet. Perhaps he couldn’t control it.
He was about to turn around and continue the walk across the bridge, when something behind Crescent caught his eye. Something far away, yet close enough to notice. Shapes, figures approaching on the bridge from where they came.
Sawblade pointed to them, and Crescent turned around to look. They approached fast, and it took Sawblade a moment to recognize the steadily growing shapes.
“Bleakers!” He said. “Damn it, they followed us!”
Crescent looked at him with an almost pleading eyes.
“Is this why you wanted to move quickly?” Sawblade asked. “Did you see them back at the church?”
His friend nodded.
“Right. Let’s move then, run!”
He didn’t have to tell Crescent twice, and they both ran down the bridge as fast as they could, suddenly hearing the shouting and yelling of their pursuers.
“Wait, I have an idea!” Sawblade yelled before skidding to a halt. He quickly threw up his saddle bags and started digging through them. He pulled out the flint and steel he’d used earlier, and then the dynamite.
He looked up, and saw that the pale ponies had gotten much closer, and would soon be on them.
“Get ready to run like hell!” He said as he tried to light fuse. “This is gonna be big!”
The Bleakers where now so close that he could see their faces clearly, full of hatred and madness.
The fuse caught fire with a flash.
“Go, run!”
Sawblade chucked the stick of dynamite at the horde of ponies. It touched down just a few meters in front of them, but they didn’t stop. Sawblade grabbed his saddle bag in his mouth and hightailed it.
A massive explosion shook the bridge, sending Sawblade hurdling to the ground. He fell face first into the snow, and grunted in pain through the handle in his mouth. His ears rang, and he could hear shouting, distant and distorted, as if he’d fallen into water.
He pushed himself back up, and didn’t even turn to look at the destruction. With a spinning head and double vision, he ran as quickly as he could without falling over. He could see the distorted silhouette of Crescent in front of him, and he focused his eyes on him in an attempt to regain himself.
Suddenly and without knowing how, the ground beneath his hooves changed. His whole body ached and the ringing in his ears tore through his skull, but through the haze, he saw that they had exited the bridge unto the mainland, and he could see Crescent waving a hoof at him on the distance.
With a final push, he ran towards Crescent and collapsed in the snow by his side. His vision started tp become black, and he felt somepony frantically push him to keep him awake. It seemed to do the job, and Sawblade managed to roll around in the snow and push himself up.
His hearing had almost returned to normal, and he could still hear the shouting from the bridge. The Stalker spun around and almost fell on his side in the process, but managed to prop himself against a tree for support.
The last part of the bridge was gone, swallowed by the ice waters beneath. Thick smoke still hung in the air, and debris and rubble fell into the ocean.
Sawblades heart sank when he spotted the pale ponies through the haze, some that had survived the explosion. They rushed across the final meters of the bridge and would soon be upon them. He couldn’t do anything in his condition, he was too disoriented to fight, and the odds were against them.
He made a move to run, but only tripped in the deep snow. The next second, their pursuers reached them.
Two of them threw themselves over Crescent and tackled him to the ground, while the remaining two approached Sawblade. He tried to crawl away, but somehow found himself back up into a tree.
With Crescent’s screams ringing in his head, he shut his eyes and got ready for the end. He had given up, too weak to stand up and defend himself.
Sawblade took a deep breath, and steeled himself for what was to come.
He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of screaming.
Anton woke up from his sleep, sweating and panting. He sat up in bed, trying to catch his breath. He ran a hand across his face, wiping away the beads of sweat covering his skin. He let the hand brush through his hair before rubbing his neck carefully.
Slowly he turned his head to the side and looked down at Lilly. She was fast asleep, snoring into the pillow, just as she’d done when he found her in the library the other day. He didn’t want to wake her, but felt a strong urge to move his limbs, so as carefully as he could, he snuck out of bed and stood up. He wrapped the cloak around himself and walked over to the window.
He couldn’t see a thing beyond the glass. Nothing but compact darkness, as if the world outside had been erased from existence.
With a sigh he removed himself from the window, and snuck back to the bed to try and get some sleep once again. That was when he heard it. A faint mumbling, coming from outside the hospital. Anton hurried back to the window to see if he could hear it better, but all he heard was mumbling. At least he could hear two distinct voices, one darker and deeper than the other.
Then, he heard a distorted screech that sounded like a wounded animal, a loud bang, and then silence.
“What was that?”
Lilly sat up in bed, probably awoken by the sound outside. She pulled the blanket around herself for warmth.
“I don’t know.” Anton whispered. “But I think it’s best if we take a look, just in case.”
“But I want to sleep…”
Anton ignored her, threw the cloak over his shoulders and grabbed the lantern hanging on the wall next to the door. He listened at the door for a little while just to be sure, and then opened it carefully.
“Wait, I’m coming to!” Lilly said as she tumbled out of bed and clumsily buttoned her own cloak. “I don’t want to all alone here.”
“Alright, let’s go.” Anton said, and pushed the door open. The hallway was empty and quiet, and completely dark except his lantern. They crept down the corridor in silence, every fibre of their bodies tense.
When they started to get close to the main lobby, a sound reached their ears.
“There it is again.” Anton said. “Mumbling. I think someone is talking downstairs.”
“Maybe it’s just Stalkers?” Lilly whispered.
“I hope so.”
A few moments later, they emerged into the lobby, and from their high spot on the first floor, they had a clear view of the entire hall.
What they saw made them both stop dead in their tracks and their blood turned to ice in their veins.
The floor below was lit up in bright light emanating from two figures on the other side of the room. One was a pony sitting down on the floor, looking up with big eyes at a figure dressed completely in black…
“Mattias!” Anton hissed between his teeth.
He didn’t say anything else, didn’t move when he saw his own brother reach out and put his hand on the forehead of the pony. It started to squirm, but Mattias dug his fingers into its skin, and the next second, Anton felt his whole world and life shatter as he witnessed what happened.
The eyes of the pony caught fire. It screamed in agony, a terrible, heart-breaking screech of pure terror, and the pony’s body writhed in futile attempts to get out of the man’s grip. The screaming quickly reached a horrendous crescendo, and then the pony fell to the floor. Its limbs twitched as the flames continued to dig its way into its eye sockets.
Suddenly, the lobby filled with voices and screams, and several sources of light appeared throughout the room as ponies came running with both lanterns and candles and magic orbs of light. Anton and Lilly crept closer to get a better look, and Anton couldn’t take his eyes away from his brother.
He heard the ponies scream and yell at Mattias, but he couldn’t make out what they said. He saw them form a half-circle around him, trying to keep him cornered to the main doors. And to his horror, he could see Willow being part of the circle, and next to him, a familiar pony in trench coat. Holly.
Next to them stood Topaz, and besides her was the strange pony he’d seen earlier, still wearing the cloak and mask.
Anton’s world had stopped moving, he couldn’t think or breathe or function. All he saw was his brother who had just killed a pony in cold blood, and his friends risking the same fate. He wanted to call out and run down to them, but he couldn’t move or open his mouth. As if he was frozen in time and space.
Suddenly, Topaz approached the man. Anton registered that she was saying something, but he couldn’t process what it was. He saw Mattias slowly turn his attention towards the mare, and saw something hanging around his neck, something giving off a faint light.
The following second, Mattias reached his hand out towards Topaz, and a deep red aura began to glow around his fingers. Topaz lifted from the floor, and Anton could just about make out her scream before Mattias made a throwing motion, and Topaz sailed through the air like a ragdoll, slamming into the wall with tremendous force. She fell to the floor and remained still.
“No!”
Lilly’s yell filled his ears, and for just a moment he had time to think “Run Lilly, run!” before he felt the eyes of his brother latch unto him. His entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t do anything but scream as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.
Lilly’s scream filled his ears again, and he managed to roll around enough to see her float away from the floor. His own screaming mixed with hers, and he tried to reach out to her but couldn’t reach her.
Her head suddenly spun around violently, and a terrible cracking noise tore through Anton’s ears. He screamed and cried as Lilly fell to the floor, lifeless. More screams filled the air, and he understood that his brother was attacking the others.
But he could care less. He could kill the entire world for all he cared; the only thing that mattered was to reach Lilly. With tears streaming down his face and his body still hurting like fire, he crawled on his arms across the floor and with a final push, he managed to grab hold of Lilly and roll her around. Her entire body felt limp as he dragged her into his arms.
With the screams of his friend ringing through his ears, Anton pushed himself to his knees, and then had to support himself on the railing of the stairs to stand up, and then bore witness to the utter chaos below him.
Several ponies had fallen to the floor, their necks twisted or eyes burnt out of their skulls. Anton screamed in fear as he saw Willow get thrown through the air and then slam into one of the glass doors on the side of the room, shattering it in a thousand pieces. The Pegasus disappeared behind the door, and Anton couldn’t see him come back out.
He screamed Holly’s name when he saw the shards of glass shoot through the air in a red aura and pierce through her stomach.
“Mattias! Sluta! Snälla, sluta, döda dom inte! Mattias!”
His brother looked straight at him, and opened his mouth, revealing nothing but a gaping black hole, an abyss, yet words flowed out of it.
“A new order shall rise; a tidal wave of pure supremacy will wash away the sin of Equestria! The serpents shall blot out the sun and your skin will burn in anguish! The world will darken and all shall despair the rising sun and the black dawn!”
“NO!” Anton yelled, his throat burning like coals. The last of his powers failed him, and he stumbled to his knees.
“They will return to reclaim what is theirs by right, the wolves shall tear the world asunder and the crows will dance across the shattered earth!”
Anton cried and pressed Lilly close to his chest, her limbs dangling from his grip. He grabbed the back of her head and pressed his face against hers and screamed in agony.
“You’re not my brother!”
Pain once again tore through his body like fire and he fell backwards, still clutching Lilly as tight as he could, hoping that he wouldn’t lose her.
The pain became unbearable, and his vision blackened as he fell, and time seemed to slow down. He felt Lilly’s soft fur against his hands, and her white mane brushing against the skin on his chin. He could no longer hear the screaming, nor feel the pain.
