They had gone east for a week and a half, before reaching the outpost of Bôsamîon. No one along the way, peasant or landholder, had even heard word of any Equestrian passing through, captive or not. Aharôs had started to consider that perhaps Queen Tempest and Lady Farpeak had escaped whatever had befallen Kakâdras and had taken the route on the other side of the Ôsavon. Sidâl had said they were beyond his vision now, but perhaps that it would be wise to leave someone behind in case they turned up; for pressing matters awaited in Ar-Athazîon.

Naturally, it had been Turaz who was volunteered for the job, along with Streaming Breeze and Sergeant Haior. The brick-red pegasus was still recovering from her wounds and could do with the rest; Haior was the Turaz to Turaz's Aharôs. And for another week, the three had resided in one of the empty warehouses the garrison Captain had graced them with. It was currently Haior's turn to sit on the roof and look for any inbound Equestrians.

“Any word from home?” asked Streaming Breeze, from her perch on a crate. She was well enough to walk and jump now, but still no flying.

“None.” Turaz replied. He was sitting on the floor-planks, cleaning his armor. After so much travel, he was surprised there was no rust. Perhaps they had gotten lucky by avoiding too much rain and mud. “I'm not too worried though, my family is safe so long as they keep their heads low. And being from Surana... Well, they know a thing or two about keeping out of trouble.”

“That's good.” said the pegasus. “Though I suppose they couldn't contact you anyway, on account of us being on the run and all.”

“Yeah... that could be relevant. Besides, I couldn't even read any potential letter.” the knight agreed, scraping out some dirt from between two plates. “I just wonder how this will all turn out. We're a band of... assorted people against an entire kingdom. I don't see how Aharôs means to retake his birthright... Not with Equestria threatening to invade Sarathûl.”

“It's a situation, alright.” Streaming Breeze nodded. In the eight days they'd been here, he'd hardly learned a thing about her. She was nowhere near as quiet as Snowy or reserved as Tempest; she just didn't reveal much about herself. “I wonder if we'll live to see the end of it. This is all starting to feel like some weird dream.”

“I know what you mean.” Turaz said back. “It's been a blur of constant movement since Vatherîon. This little break of ours has been nice, but it's just a break. We'll be moving on eventually.”

“What happens if Queen Tempest and Lady Farpeak don't show up?”

“I really don't want to know, and I definitely don't want to be the one to tell Aharôs that.” he stated firmly. “Besides, the Blackwinds have a habit of surviving unlikely situations, our Tempest will pull through.”

Another quiet day passed, each of the three taking a few hours up on the roof. The summer weather and their northern locale made it rather pleasant than unbearable as it surely would be further south. But on the next day, while Turaz sat under the temporary awning Haior had put up, he saw something through his spyglass. Movement, on the hill on the other side of the inlet. Two movements. “By God, they've done it.” he muttered. “Haior, Stream, I think I see them!” he yelled down through the hatch.

“You sure?” asked Haior, quickly climbing the ladder up and poking his head out.

“I'm honestly not surprised.” Streaming Breeze commented from below.

“Well, there's two somethings out there.” Turaz stated. “Let's go take a look.”

The three set off through the empty and quiet set of buildings which made up the outpost. Turaz brought his halberd but no armor; Streaming Breeze was entirely unarmed; so Haior was the only one truly prepared for a fight if those two things weren't their lost ponies. Turaz led them towards the forest and northern part of the inlet.

“What if it isn't them?” Haior asked, adjusting his helmet.

“That's why we're armed.” Turaz replied.

“This is the Far North after all...” commented Streaming Breeze, looking around. “I've heard stories of this place.”

“Just stories.” Haior replied. “Probably just stories.”

“Let's hope so.” the pegasus said quietly. They reached the treeline, and skirted around it on the rocky shores. It was slow going, for the most part, their pegasus companion taking offense to to the multitudes of unstable rocks in regards to her hooves; she ended up dodging waves and walking on the much finer grains in the surf. Humans had the advantage of boots, and thus did not mind the palm-sized stones beneath them.

It was a quarter of an hour by foreign reckoning, and an eighth of a bell by the realms of men, by the time they came upon the two figures Turaz had spotted. One was a blue-grey, the other was a beige color. There was no doubt, they'd found the two missing pegasi.

“Well, look who we have here!” Turaz shouted once they were within hearing distance. “You two better have an explanation for this!”

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you.” came Tempest's response. Turaz hadn't heard her voice in well over a month, it had almost been a relief.

“Really.” said Turaz, once they were roughly standing face to face. Tempest and Snowy looked absolutely disheveled. They were covered in dust and dirt, and both looked exhausted and hungry, Snowy more so than Tempest. The former seemed worse for wear of the two, she even had bits of plants stuck in her tangled mane and tail.

“Streaming Breeze, you made it out?” Tempest asked in surprise. “Îrilôs said you all died...”

“I'm surprised too, my Queen.” she said as she bowed. “I didn't make it out unscathed though, I've been grounded for a month.”

“Well, you're not the only one.” Tempest pointed at her ever-present friend. “Snowy hurt her wings, she hasn't been able to fly in days.”

“How'd she manage that?” asked Turaz. “It's not like you two ever get into a fight on your own.”

“Yeah... We had our moments on this little adventure.” Tempest shivered.

“Wait, did you two fight-?” Haior began to ask, but was interrupted.

“What? No, no, we didn't fight. Where'd you even get that idea?” The Queen of Highcrest didn't wait for an answer. “We fought something else. Two other things. And it wasn't really a fight... It was more of flying away really fast after a brief encounter.”

“Are you going to tell us?” Turaz questioned, wondering just what they had run into out in the ancient homeland of mankind.

“Later. First, I want to know what you three are doing here.” she commanded.

“King Aharôs left us behind to wait for you, since Sidâl told us this is where you were supposed to meet us. Obviously, you were very, very late.” stated Turaz. “So we've waited here for a bit, hoping you'd show up. Here you are.”

“Snowy and I agreed this morning, that before we tell anyone anything about our little adventure and run-ins with storybook monsters, we're going to want to get cleaned up and have a hot meal for the first time since... Jutan, I think.” stated Tempest.

“I'm not spending another minute in this condition if I don't have to.” Snowy remarked, lifting a hoof muddy and sandy and staring at it with discontentedly. Huh, not a single bit of stuttering, Turaz noted. “I haven't washed in three weeks, it's disgusting.”

“Welcome to the life of an infantryman.” Haior grumbled. “Three weeks is nothing.” Streaming Breeze gave him an alarmed look, while Turaz could only chuckle.

“My sergeant may be exaggerating.” he warned. “Well, I'm eager to find out what exactly you two were up to that concerns storybook monsters. Come along, my Queen, we're going back to town.” Their two formerly-lost pegasi were quiet on the way in, but not uncomfortably so. They both looked visibly relieved at the moment. Whatever storybook monster they ran into must have been quite a fright. Streaming Breeze helped the two wash off a month of accumulated dirt, while Turaz and Haior enjoyed the weather on the roof.

“What do you think is out there?” Haior asked, tilting his helmet so the visor blocked the sun's glare. He looked straight across the inlet, to the hill their pegasi had walked over. “What could they have possibly ran into?”

“Last summer I would have just said an overactive imagination.” Turaz replied. “But after what I've seen from Sidâl, what I saw in after that Verâdîm ambush, what I heard in that pit, how I saw him fight at Vatherîon...” He shook his head. “The world has a lot more secrets than I could have thought. I don't know if I want to know them all.”

“I didn't see him at Vatherîon.” said Haior. “Did he...?”

“It was the eeriest thing I've ever seen, Haior. He slid around like he was on ice and no one could see him.” The knight shuddered.

“That sounds more comical to me.” Haior commented.

“It was like he just jumped from shadow to shadow, and there'd be a knife he wasn't holding a moment ago sticking through the neck of the soldier he had just been in front.” Turaz held up one hand, and quickly slide his other from its front to its back, trying to demonstrate what it had been like. “I can't explain it any other way. And then he went ahead, and we found halls covered in that foul frost with no signs of life. As if whoever had been there had just been pulled out of the world... I shiver to think where. Or of what took them.”

“Well...” The sergeant tilted his head, and continued to stare at the distance. “The good book says there's a balance to all things. Whatever Sidâl has at his command surely cannot be good, but surely, there must be something to counter it that is not so evil.”

“I hope so.” Turaz said. “I have a bad feeling about that man. Sure, he came from somewhere with an ill-ruling king and now seeks to aid Aharôs to prevent that from happening again, I can sympathize with that motive. But I just cannot believe it is his only one. Queen Tempest and Lady Snowy agreed with me on this. And, did you know, Sidâl knew who I was by sight before we had even met?”

“I don't believe I've heard that before.”

“It's true, he did. He walked up to me in Sturaj and said I was quite well-known in his circles of friends. Why, though?” asked Turaz, putting a hand to his head. “Why me? Where does an illiterate one step above commoner come into play in this grand game of princes and sorcerers?”

“We'll probably find out too late.” remarked Haior. “That's what happens in the stories.”

“I don't think we're in that kind of story, Haior.” rebuked Turaz.

“It just feels like it, sometimes. Like we're just players in some far greater play.”

“That's called the human metanarrative.” stated Turaz. “Lady Snowy taught me that, believe it or not.”

“A metanarrative? I've never heard of such a thing.”

“It's an Equestrian idea. Meta isn't even Tarsen, it's from some kind of Alicornian dialect. But the metanarrative is... How did she explain it...” Turaz racked his brain. “A great story that we all are a part of, I guess. It's history as we tell it, the quest of our people to work towards whatever we're working towards. Snowy can speak of it better, ask her if you're really interested in it.”

“All the world's a stage...” muttered Haior.

“...That's a good way to put it.” He should put that in a book, thought Turaz.

Both sat on in silence for a long time, thinking about their part in the world's stage. Until Streaming Breeze yelled at them from below.

“The Queen is ready for your presence!” she reported.

“Well, time to find out what they saw up there.” said Turaz, climbing down the ladder into the loft. Haior followed him in short order. Tempest and Snowy looked as good as new. Well, Tempest looked her usual, clean but plainly unremarkable and just one step above unkempt. Snowy, on the other hand, had her appearance well-maintained and ordered as usual, and was diligently brushing her still-damp tail. Where did she even get a brush? Did she bring one on their little adventure? wondered Turaz.

“It's story time!” eagerly said Haior, hooking a stool with his foot and sitting down.

“Fine, fine.” sighed Tempest, sitting down on a blanket with Snowy and Streaming. She looked rather out of place; not as feminine as the beige pegasus, but not as hard and worn as the red one. The Blackwind Army, in all its glory, confined to one old quilt in a backwater outpost's warehouse. It was actually kind of saddening. “Well, it all began when Reshîv turned on Aharôs. We were all there for that, Snowy and I got out of there. Streaming too, apparently. Îrilôs met us and told us to go to Kakâdras, and then to this place, where there would be a ship waiting. But, he also said we should avoid flying over Athair or Verâd, so we took the long way around, on the other side of the Dashavon. It was smooth going for a few days, it took that long to get Snowy into the habit of long flights. We slept one night at the manor of a Jutan nobleman, he and his daughter were very accommodating. And then we went to Kakâdras from there... That's when things got...”

“Scary.” interjected Snowy, laying down and putting her head between her forelegs.

“I'm very interested in this part.” Turaz commented. He didn't tell them it was to make sure their story lined up with what Sidâl and Aharôs had decided was the official one.

“We show up at the gates, and they let us in, they know who Îrilôs is apparently. No surprise, given the garrison commander was a relative of his. But...” Tempest paused, looking uneasy. “Everyone had their armor on. Visors on too. Scrubbing away at things on the ground and walls. No one but a single soldier at the gate said a word to us. We go up the tower, met another soldier who talks, and meet the Captain, he's very interested in Aharôs...”

“Seems rather normal.” commented Streaming Breeze.

“You see, the Kakâdras tower had portraits of all the Captains on its walls, and the current Captain's portrait was done of him standing right outside the tower door. He doesn't come within half a foot of it. But then he stands up in front of us, and leads us down outside... And he has to duck under the door.”

Turaz and Haior exchanged glances.

“Yeah.” Tempest said.

“Old men don't grow a head's worth of height overnight.” Snowy added.

“So the Captain wasn't actually the Captain. No, that'd have been too easy. The day something goes right for me is the day the world ends.” Tempest stated bitterly. “You know what the Captain was? A wraith.”

“You have to be kidding.” said Turaz disbelievingly.

“Madness!” Haior exclaimed.

“A what?” asked Streaming Breeze.

“A wraith,” began Snowy, “more properly a Hell-wraith, is an evil soul the Great Enemy dragged out of Hell with him, when he arrived upon Earth. Whatever they once were, human or otherwise, is gone, all that remains is a wicked creature that knows only hate.”

“Great Enemy, that was... Vahâdrîn, right?” Streaming tried to clarify. Snowy nodded. “I thought the humans said all his demons died with him, though?”

“That's what I thought too.” Snowy said quietly.

“They obviously missed a few.” grumbled Tempest.

“So, you two met a wraith?” Turaz repeated. “How did you even know it was a wraith?”

“The Captain suddenly transformed into this tall shadowy thing.” explained Tempest, waving a hoof in the air to emphasize the height. “I didn't see any face, and it had magic. Some kind of purple light. Not a glow, like you say unicorn magic is, but more like... lightning, I guess. The wraith grabbed me by the neck and said Sidâl and Îrilôs should have never sent us there, and that now I was going to die.”

“Lord of Heaven.” muttered Haior, touching two fingers to his forehead in unspoken prayer.

“I wasn't afraid, though.” Tempest said. “I knew Snowy would pull through. And she did! She flew right into the wraith and knocked it over, freeing me. We decided to fly for it, and... Well, we didn't check where we were going, and ended up on the Far North side of the Ôsavon.”

“Wait, so not only are you attacked by a wraith, Lady Snowy saved you?” Turaz asked incredulously. “Her?” He pointed at the docile and timid pegasus. That's how she is, right? He didn't like the idea that Snowy had been playing them all for over ten years; pretending to be a cowardly, harmless scholar, all the while honing dangerous skills to hidden perfection. It was just too far-fetched.

“Yes, her.” said Tempest.

“It was an act of divinely-inspired courage.” Snowy added in, with a slight blush. “I didn't think I had it in me.”

“I'll say.” said Turaz. “What an adventure you two have had.”

“Oh, it's not over yet. Far from it.” Tempest sighed. “The morning after that, we were still pretty spooked. Kept hearing this howling noise too, though nothing ever came of it, thankfully. But as we were flying, I got a little turned around on an overcast night, and ended up taking us even further north than we already were. And that's where we see this... path.” She paused, thinking on her next words, probably. “It was a solid line of knocked over trees. Not torn out of the ground by a whirlwind or something, they had been pushed over from the base of the trunk. And they were dead, too, bleached and drained, as was the ground below them. As if something had come along in a perfectly straight line and sucked all the life out of everything it knocked down. I decide that we should follow this path and see where it goes. You all won't miss us if we're a few days late, right?”

“Hmmph.” snorted Turaz.

“So we keep on going north, Snowy didn't like the notion but she wasn't in much of a position to object. And... it must have been a week or so later, we finally arrive where this path and many more meet. We were deep in the Far North by that point, the nights were freezing and the sun seemed like it was only up for a third of the day. But there we saw it: this big circle of destruction, surrounding a little hill covered in very much living white roses. And there was an obelisk on top, which said 'Versa' on it. Snowy thought it was a memorial to a dead alicorn, and I'm inclined to agree.”

“I wonder what an alicorn was doing in our territory.” Haior mused to himself.

“No sooner are we on the hill investigating than a storm comes over us. Black, oily clouds rushed towards us, and started spinning around the hill. They're what's caused the destruction, I realized. But for some reason, the storm can't touch us, so it starts screaming.”

“Screaming?” asked Streaming Breeze.

“Screaming. It wasn't the wind, because the air was completely still. It was something screaming at us in some abominable language we didn't need to understand to know what it meant. And that's when it hits me: this isn't a life-draining storm, this is a monster of darkness. A demon of the ancient world. We were under attack by a shadow spirit!”

“That's impossible!” scoffed Turaz. “The last shadow spirits died with the Great Enemy!”

“Madness!” Haior said again.

“A what?” questioned the red pegasus.

“A shadow spirit was supposedly a fire spirit which had its flame extinguished, and in its jealous rage, turned to evil. They tried to eat all the fires of life in order to rekindle their own.” explained Tempest. “Or so Snowy said later.”

“I thought a wraith was unbelievable, but a fucking shadow spirit? Shit.” swore the knight. “Why doesn't anyone else know that thing is out there?”

“I... I don't know.” shrugged Tempest. “Brenan always said it was more likely that overpopulation, famine, and weather which drove you out of the Far North. But maybe the demon was behind that? Maybe it wanted you to leave and started killing crops... and... whatever else demons do.”

“Tempest, Snowy, keep this to yourselves for now. Tell it to the Emperor when we get to Ar-Athazîon, but don't say a word.” ordered Turaz. “If that falls upon the wrong ears... I don't know what, but I don't like the idea either.”

“Got it.” nodded Tempest. “The shadow spirit was driven off by the sunrise, the sun seemed to almost melt it, and that was the last we saw of it. Snowy and I fled to the sea as fast as we could, and made our way down the coast to here. Of course, she messed up her wings along the way, and we spent most of that journey walking.” Tempest then launched into an account of the last half of their journey, spent in fear of the demon's return. Turaz noticed Snowy had fallen asleep at some point, and the Queen herself was losing enthusiasm as well. When she had finally caught them up to where they were now, Tempest looked ready for a nap herself. “Well, that's our story.” she said with a yawn. “Nothing more to it than that.

“Now we know.” Turaz stated. “Get some rest now, you've earned it.” he suggested. Tempest, used to doing what she was told, laid down where she sat. Streaming Breeze gave her a curious glance.

“Gladly.” agreed Tempest, yawning again. And with that, she was out. The other three moved off to another part of the warehouse.

“What do you think?” asked Turaz to them.

“What do you mean?” Streaming replied.

“Wraiths? Shadow spirits?” he prompted. “It's not that I think their story is false, but I have to wonder if they really did see those things, or they think they saw those things. I mean, we thought Reshîv had something to do with their disappearance given what we found at Kakâdras, but then these two give us a completely different explanation for things.”

“Maybe the wraith worked for Reshîv.” suggested Haior.

“But didn't Reshîv hate sorcery and anything to do with the supernatural?” questioned the red pegasus.

“He does...” Turaz put a hand to his chin. “It seems like we have a mystery on our hands.”

“And hooves.” Haior added. The knight and pony both gave him an unamused look.

“Regardless, now that we've fulfilled our duty here, we can finally join everyone else in the civilized world.” he stated.

“You mean-?” began Streaming Breeze.

“We sail for Ar-Athazîon.”

Author's Notes:

>“I wasn't afraid, though.”
Tempest Blackwind, you're a liar and a craven! Anyways, this chapter felt a little rushed to me, but I've dilly-dallied way too long on this part of the plot.