Tall, dark trees stood proud and silent around Commander Hurricane, their stony bark crawling its way up to the tops of the silent bastions of nature. The monolithic sentinels, some nearly ten feet across at the base, stood as testament to the ever-marching passage of time. Their broad leaves and gnarled branches strangled the setting sun, casting dark and splotchy shadows across the springy and cool soil. Birds twittered to each other in the trees, and Hurricane could see a pair of squirrels watching him from a low-hanging branch, each clutching at acorns held against their breasts.

Hurricane stopped and looked at them for a few moments. “You’d make a good dinner,” he told them, his hoof touching the hunting knife strapped to his breast. “A few herbs and spices and I’ve got myself a nice stew.”

The squirrels looked at each other before darting up and away, climbing higher into the thick canopy of the tree they called home.

The stallion shrugged and continued his walk. “Lucky I’m not hungry, anyway,” he muttered as he weaved his way between a series of massive tree trunks.

If he squinted, Hurricane could see the massive spire of the Mountain of Dawn through the canopy on his right. The forest was incredibly dense, and the pegasus had been forced to drop below the canopy and search for his target on hoof. There was no way he’d be able to pick out a lone pony moving through the shadows from above. Instead, Hurricane was doing his best to reconstruct the thief’s steps through the wilderness and pursue him on the ground.

Whoever the thief was, he was good. If Hurricane didn’t have the map and a general location for where the thief’s potential hideout was, he would never have been able to track him. Still, there was the occasional sign along the way for Hurricane to know he was on the right path: a tuft of blue fur gripped in a piece of bark; a few oddly kicked around stones; a hoofprint in the mud. Hurricane could only smile to himself as he moved deeper and deeper into the forest; by the looks of things, his target was heading exactly where Hurricane thought he would go.

He came across a small river running through the woods, its waters clear and sparkling in the setting sunlight. Fluttering down to the edge of the water, Hurricane sat down on some pebbles and pulled out his half-emptied canteen. Gripping the canteen between the feathers of his wing, he dipped it into the stream, letting the cool water splash its way through the opening and onto his wings. Corking the canteen back up, Hurricane removed his helmet and bent down to take a long, refreshing drink right from the cool, bubbling source. He didn’t realize how much he had been sweating underneath his armor in the humid summer air until he took the time to cool off.

A snap of a twig. Hurricane’s head darted up and he widened his wings on instinct, quickly scanning the trees. Everything was still and silent. Perking his ears up, Hurricane held his breath and blocked out the noise of the stream behind him. He couldn’t hear anything; that was what unsettled him the most. The birds high in the trees had fallen silent, and even the cicadas in the dirt stilled their chirping. The whole forest seemed to be watching, waiting.

Hurricane carefully picked his galea up off the ground and slid it back on his head. Giving the woods one last cautious look, he fluttered over the stream and continued to hunt for signs of his target. If the pony was smart, he’d try to stick along the river to lose anypony else following him. Now, however, the smallest distraction was working its way into Hurricane’s mind.

He knew somepony or something was following him, stalking him. He had heard the twig snap, and although he might have been getting older, he still trusted his senses with his life. He did not imagine the noise; somepony stepped on a twig and then stilled themselves in the hopes that Hurricane wouldn’t notice them. Well, Hurricane hadn’t spotted them, but the raising hairs at the base of his neck told him he was being watched and followed, even if he couldn’t see the pony in the shadows of the forest.

The graying stallion was so concerned with trying to locate his tail that he nearly missed a tiny square of cloth caught in the brush of a bramble bush. Stopping, he backtracked to the plant and pulled it out. It was fresh fabric, hardly worn and recently torn. Frowning, he tossed the miniscule piece of cloth into the wind, where it immediately fluttered away and out of sight. He was still on the right track, but the birds were still silent and he could almost feel eyes burning through his armor.

Taking a deep breath, Hurricane trotted back towards the water’s edge before consulting his map. The ground was open here; he’d have a second’s warning if anything tried to attack him, which was much better than the cover afforded by the undergrowth and trees that a cunning assassin could use to sneak up to him.

Pulling the map case out of his saddlebag with a wing, Hurricane bit the cap off and emptied the scroll into his hooves. His eyes darted around the trees one last time before he turned his attention to the map. By his best judgment, if he followed the river for another quarter of a mile and cut a left through a thicket of trees, he’d make his way to where he could only suppose the thief and any of his comrades would be holding up.

Something moved in the trees above, a blurry, dark shape that effortlessly jumped from one branch to the next and disappeared. Hurricane scowled as he put the map back away. If his tail was smart, they’d attack him in the midst of that thicket where there was poor visibility and a lot of cover. With how dark it was getting outside, Hurricane had no doubt that they’d be able to get the jump on him, possibly with a dagger clutched between their teeth.

He considered flying the rest of the distance, but that wasn’t a reasonable option. If the thief had deviated from the river at all, Hurricane needed to know, else he’d lose him again. Also, with his hunter apparently jumping from tree limb to tree limb, it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume that Hurricane would likely end up getting tackled out of the air before he got his chance to gain any real altitude.

Hurricane double-checked that his sword was unlatched and loosened in its scabbard, ready to be whipped out at a moment’s notice. Walking away from the water, the Praetorian Commander made a show of his angled wings, making sure that his pursuer saw the warning. Pulling back his upper lip in a sneer, Hurricane walked deeper into the forest, keeping one eye open for the pony following him while the other searched for clues to the thief’s position.

It didn’t take the commander long to make his way to the thicket of trees guarding the entrance to what he had every reason to believe was the thief’s hideout. As if he needed further proof, he could see a crude warning nestled in between the tree branches, made of little more than a rusted sword coated in dried blood pierced through the bark of a tree.

Hurricane frowned, and he stepped forward to inspect the weapon, still keeping a careful eye on his surroundings. The warning was simple, effective, but decidedly understated for any of the raider or bandit groups that he knew of. He could always assume that it was simply a new group organizing themselves and staking out their first real hideaway, but even then, the warning was too subtle and plain to be the work of the lawless ponies that lived away from the Legion’s reach. If anything, it was a group much more organized than raiders and with a focus on being unnoticed rather than terrorizing the minds of nearby settlers.

The tree directly in front of him creaked. Looking up, Hurricane was almost positive he could see the very faint edges of a shadowed figure perched in the branches. Glaring at the shadow, Hurricane drew his sword and looked back between the trees, to where he could barely see the piled stone at the foot of the Mountain. From here, it looked to be piled around fifty feet tall, but Hurricane couldn’t tell how far down the ground dipped before it finally met the outcropping.

There was only one way to find out.

Arching his wings, Hurricane began to walk through the thicket of trees with his skysteel blades pointed straight up. If anything were to try and drop onto his back from above, a simple flick of his wings would open the blades to their full, terrifying length and eviscerate a descending body. His ears were perked up, and he held his breath, waiting for a noise. His hooves padded softly over moss and grass until he was about halfway through the thicket.

A tree branch creaked to the left.

Hurricane immediately rose up on his hind legs and flared his wings out, striking upwards with all the might he could muster. He felt a downward ripple of air accompanying a frantic flapping as a pegasus rolled to the side to dodge the suddenly rising wingblades. Pivoting on a hind hoof, Hurricane swung the Gladius Procellarum upwards, towards the suddenly vulnerable body of his assailant. The air hissed as the sword glowed with all four types of Empatha at once, leaving sparks of fire in its wake even as the metal became coated in frost. Electricity sparkled along the infinitely sharp edge of the blade, and the air rippled with sonic force as the sword cut it apart.

Instead of catching a solid blow that left his attacker split in two or more pieces, Hurricane’s eyes widened as the unnaturally dark pegasus contorted in a way he didn’t think physically possible to scrape past the sword. Hurricane felt Procellarum bite a shallow line through the hide of the pegasus, but the discharge of thunder from the length of the steel sent the attacker flying through the trees. Branches and bushes cracked in the shadows as his body plowed through them, and Hurricane could hear a quiet grunt as the pony came to a backbreaking stop against a tree.

Backpedaling, Hurricane worked his way into the clearing on the other side of the thicket of trees. His ambusher had lost his tactical advantage now, for whatever good it had done him in the first place. Now, he would have to fight on more even grounds, and on terms decidedly in the Praetorian Commander’s favor.

As the pegasus emerged from the undergrowth with brambles clinging onto his coat, Hurricane was forced to reevaluate the situation. The pegasus, first of all, was abnormally tall and muscular. Hurricane himself was a tall stallion, but this pegasus probably had an inch on him, and he was much wider. His coat was a midnight blue, and his eyes were yellow and slitted. Fangs revealed themselves alongside a ferocious roar, and the strange pegasus flared its leathery wings in an aggressive stance.

Hurricane clutched tighter to his sword. The only thing he could think of that this pony reminded him of was Diadem’s description of the thief, except that this one was obviously some sort of pegasus bat-pony as opposed to a unicorn. Looking over his shoulder, Hurricane could see the entrance to a dark cave behind him. Refocusing his attention on his opponent, the commander began to advance. Once he had dispatched the bat pony, he’d take a look at that cave.

Hunching over, the bat pony dug its leathery wings into the ground and hunkered down. Hurricane knew what a charging position looked like, and he managed to brace himself the moment the pony tore its wings through the ground, rocketing across the clearing with alarming speed. For such a large pony, the pegasus had gained speed impossibly fast, leaving Hurricane precious few seconds to react.

Rather than stepping back, Hurricane rolled to the side, making sure to throw a wing up as the bat pony passed by. His wing scored a solid hit on the bat pony’s stomach, dripping strangely cold blood onto his feathers, but he hardly got the chance to notice. Despite his evasion, jaws still snapped shut inches from his neck, and a surprisingly strong hoof kicked him in the breast. The onyx armor deflected the physical damage with ease, but the blow still left him winded.

Dipping into his Empatha for a little energy, Hurricane rolled out of his dive just in time to catch the pegasus coming around again. This time, as the pegasus charged, Hurricane raised his sword and slammed it downwards. The bat pony was agile enough to dodge it, but not fast enough to escape Hurricane’s wingblade. The scales on the left blade managed to clip the bat pony’s wing, tearing through a tendon that made the wing suddenly lifeless. With a quiet grunt, the enemy pegasus fell onto his hooves and petered out the momentum from his charge on the ground.

Growling, the strange bat pony advanced again, this time flashing its teeth and transfixing Hurricane with a deeply intimidating stare. The world briefly narrowed down onto just the pegasus’ eyes, but Hurricane quickly shook his head, realizing that the bat pony was trying to Stare him down. Despite being a little shaken, Hurricane was able to raise his defenses just as the other pegasus got within range.

The pegasus immediately began with a lightning fast jab towards Hurricane’s jaw, but Hurricane could already tell from the blow he had taken earlier that it was anything but a simple punch. Leaning back, Hurricane dodged the first attack, then shimmied to the side as a second grazed within inches of his chin. Using his momentum, Hurricane swung his sword towards the pegasus’ exposed midsection, forcing his assailant to take a step back. The commander pressed his advantage, coupling a swing from a bladed wing and a sword jab with a broad slash from Procellarum that left the ground ablaze with fire. With a moment’s breather between him and his assailant, Hurricane allowed himself a chance to regroup and plan his next move.

Fire didn’t faze the bat pony for long, however, and soon the dark pegasus jumped back over the flames and rushed Hurricane again. This time, Hurricane countered with a charge of his own. The unexpected motion allowed him to slam a shoulderpiece directly into the bat pony’s chin, sending him backwards and giving Hurricane enough time to spin in a wide circle, his sword cutting dangerously through the air. The whirl climaxed in a thick, red line of scorched and frostburnt flesh that cut across the pegasus from shoulder to sternum, and Hurricane heard his opponent yelp in pain for the first time in the entire fight. Backpedaling, the strange pegasus tried to get some space to regroup. Hurricane let him have it, but not to cut his opponent any sort of slack.

Sparks crackled between his hind legs as he quickly planted his front hooves in the ground and began to pivot. The blue streaks of electricity began to jump from one limb to the other in higher, longer, brighter arcs, and the snapping of the air between them only intensified in volume. All this took barely a second, and no sooner had Hurricane kicked his rear hooves out did a bolt of pure lightning connect him to his foe. The Cirran was almost certain he heard the piercing screech as the bat pony’s body went rigid and spasmed before collapsing in a charred pile of flesh and bones. Smoke was already beginning to pour off of the fresh corpse by the time Hurricane’s hooves returned to the ground.

The surviving pegasus shook his head. “You were careful, but not careful enough.” Then, turning back towards the cave, Hurricane took a single step forward and immediately was blasted in the chest by an overwhelming surge of raw magical energy. The force behind the Arcana alone was enough to launch him a good sixty-five feet back through the air until he slammed into the thick trunk of a tree and slid to the bottom, where he lay, stunned.

His skin ached; his coat was scorched, and the void crystals in his armor were making that piercing ringing that he hated so much. Still, if it hadn’t have been for them, there was no doubt that the surge of Arcana would have vaporized him immediately. He was simply amazed that there was enough mana behind that blast to overwhelm the void crystals in his armor and actually hurt him.

Through the hazy and bleary corners of his vision, Hurricane saw a slender, black unicorn mare gallop to the body of the bat pony he had just killed. His ears were still ringing from the force of the blast and his own pain, but as his hearing returned to him, Hurricane could make out what the mare was saying.

“…got him, Little Brother. There’s no way that a mere pegasus should have been able to…” she shook her head, and Hurricane could hear the despair and sadness in her voice. “To have killed you.” Standing up, she placed a hoof down on the charred body’s face, presumably to close its eyes. “The Mistress will remember your sacrifice for her.”

Then, turning to Hurricane, the mare began to step forward, angrily at first, then with much more caution and confusion. When she was finally close enough that Hurricane could make out her face through his hazy vision, the unicorn stopped and muttered a few noises of disbelief.

“Wha… how? How did that not kill you?” Taking a step closer, she bent down and pointed to his still-ringing armor. “What sort of armor are you wearing? Are those… void crystals?”

Hurricane was still too badly disoriented and hurt to reply. Instead, he loosely flopped his neck back and looked the unicorn over. He jumped back a bit in shock as he realized that she too shared the other bat pony’s coat coloration, eyes and teeth. Her horn was not a spiraling and straight thing like a normal unicorn’s horn; hers was long, curved, and without any sort of grooves, instead honed to a lethal edge that Hurricane had no doubt could punch through most armors. Despite the imminent danger he was in, all Hurricane could think about was how he must have gone to the right place if he had found two kinds of bat ponies, and the thief he was looking for was supposedly one as well.

The mare angrily drew back her lips, revealing several rows of sharp and fanged teeth clenched together. “You killed him!” she spat, almost wailing through her anger. “You killed Little Brother! I’m going to make you pay for that! Nopony hurts one of our own!” Her horn began to charge with energy again, and Hurricane knew that at this range, his enchanted armor wasn’t going to save him again. The bat pony’s horn brightened until it was a beacon of unholy wrath, ready to vaporize the Cirran at any second.

“Stop!”

The mare’s horn suddenly went dark as the new voice reached the two of them. Stiffening, the unicorn immediately backed away from Hurricane and turned to face the new voice, which Hurricane could hardly see around her body. Taking a step forward, she began in a pleading voice, “Mistress, I—”

“That is enough, Third Sister,” the other voice interrupted. It was a mare’s voice, firm, authoritative, and very regal in its inflection. Hurricane could tell that hers was a voice that was never questioned and gave orders, never taking them. “Now stand aside; let me see what sort of pony could actually manage to kill a thestral.”

“A pegasus,” the bat pony apparently known as Third Sister spat as she stepped aside. “He kicked lightning; I’ve never seen it done before.”

“Hmmm. Then perhaps he can share a few things with us.” The other mare said as she stepped into Hurricane’s field of vision.

She was unlike any pony Hurricane had ever seen before. First of all, she was unreasonably tall. Although it was hard to tell exactly how tall she was from his current position, Hurricane figured she was probably around four and a half feet at the shoulder, and her body was well proportioned to match. The long horn on her forehead only exaggerated her size, and powerful wings were coiled by her sides. Her coat was a deep blue, but her mane and tail somehow shimmered and flowed with an ethereal presence. Tiny pinpricks of light filled them, looking almost exactly like the night sky. As the towering pony moved to stand directly over Hurricane, all the Cirran could do was mouth the name that came to his mind, however impossible it had to have been.

“Lūn…?”

The tall mare looked shocked, and she took a step back. “Wait a minute, how could you possibly know my—?”

But it was too late. Hurricane finally succumbed to the burning agony flowing through his coat and blacked out.

Twister’s eyes stung and her jaw ached. Her teeth were so tightly clenched together that it was a surprise she hadn’t broken one already. Her body shuddered, and she rested her trembling forehooves on the windowsill to try and still herself.

Behind her, a tired, forest green pegasus watched her sadly. He held his helmet pinned under a wing at his side, the feathers beginning to fray and grow silver, despite him being only forty years old. His armor was scratched and worn, and could probably use a good polish, but the wilderness tended to mar it enough anyway that he had long since abandoned the practice when he knew he’d be going out into the field. After all, scout centurions had only themselves for protection when they were far from home, and polished armor would make it that much harder to hide.

Twister swallowed hard and took a moment to catch her breath before she spoke. “And you’re… you’re sure? She couldn’t have just followed an urgent lead without telling us?” She stared out the window as she spoke, worried that she’d break into tears if she saw the expression on the scout centurion’s face.

The stallion standing on the other side of Twister’s desk shook his head. “I’m sorry, Legatus. My wife heard the blast from the Choke when she changed shifts with Legate Run Down. It took her a few minutes to get the numbers together to safely see what was going on, but by then whatever had happened was already over.”

The Cirran Legatus could feel her shoulders collapsing as quickly as her spirit was breaking. Bracing herself, she turned around to face the soldier. Her eyes stung as she held back tears, and she very, very shakily moved herself to her chair. She collapsed, and if she could have sunken into the chair and hidden from the whole mess, she would have. As it stood, she only sagged about two inches into the plush before her elbows found their place on the table. Sighing, she leaned forward until her hooves were cutting into her brow. Her shoulders began to shake, violently.

Biting his lip, the centurion hesitated a moment before walking around the table and placing a hoof on Twister’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the simple contact seemed to be what the mare needed to keep herself from breaking down. Shivering, she eventually looked up and nodded, gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Pathfinder.”

Pathfinder managed a light smile. “Please, just Finder is fine.”

Twister managed a shaky nod. “Right… sorry. Finder, what… what did Iron Rain find?”

Finder chewed on his cheek as he walked back around the desk. “Bodies. Lots of them. The majority were earth ponies and unicorns, most of whom looked like they were from the slums. My wife says that every one of the ponies they searched had one of these on them.” Reaching into his saddlebag, he flipped a silver brooch onto the table. Twister reached forward, picking it up with an unsteady hoof.

It was a small silver pendant, finely crafted and very recently made. Its design was fairly ornate, consisting of three elongated points attached to a semicircular base, with the central point considerably longer than the two on its sides. A small pair of filigree wings stuck out at the sides, each tapering out into a jagged edge at the primaries.

“This is… their symbol?” Twister asked. “I’ve seen the work of a lot of gangs or organizations over the years, but I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Pathfinder shrugged. “I can only imagine.”

Twister set the brooch down on the corner of her desk, intending to investigate it later. Then, taking another shuddering breath, she turned back to Finder. “And… what else did Rain find?”

Finder began to dig through his other, bulging saddlebag with a wing while he talked. “Well, there was a crater where a huge amount of Arcana was detonated. She found two of the centurions Typhoon had taken with her in… several pieces. A third was found a ways down the street with a hole burnt through her wing and several through her breast. We don’t know what happened to the fourth.”

Twister shook her head. “I’ll have to notify the families then, in addition to everything else I have to do…”

Pathfinder coughed awkwardly. “Rain told me that the ponies responsible had taken their documentation. Notifying the families won’t be very easy.”

The mare was stunned. “They what?” she asked with no small amount of rage. She didn’t believe that the ponies responsible were anything short of radicals, but to hear this? This put them on a whole lower level. Stealing papers and preventing the Legion from notifying a soldier’s family of their passing was downright unholy.

Finder took a step back as tongues of fire began to lick at the wings of the untrained pegasus seated across from him.

Twister’s brow furrowed in hatred, but that soon gave way to a simple tiredness. “Unthinkable,” she muttered to herself. Then, she remembered her sorrow and worry that her sudden veil of anger had clouded from her. “And you said that… Typhoon was missing?”

“Rain didn’t find the body,” Finder began carefully, “but she did find something else.” Finally pulling his wing out of the bulging saddlebag, he place a twisted and damaged helmet on Twister’s desk. The Legatus immediately recognized the onyx galea, and her hooves gingerly picked it up.

“Gods… no…” she whispered, holding the thing in front of her. Blood stained the inside of the helmet, and the plume of black horsehair in the crest was charred and altogether in disarray. The right cheekpiece was terribly mangled, rendering the helmet useless, little more than scrap.

“It’s Commander Typhoon’s helmet, alright” Pathfinder said, nodding towards the galea. “But Rain and her soldiers didn’t find the body. It’s hard to know what exactly happened to her; blood splatters on the ground only mean so much if you have the body to go along with them.”

Twister felt her lip tremble. Despair was crushing down on her; for the second time, her brother had lost his daughter while he was away. And unlike five years ago, where they knew where Typhoon was, this time there wasn’t even a trail they could follow. The ponies that had killed her centurions and possibly killed her as well had up and disappeared along with her body.

Then her thoughts turned to a much more sensitive issue. “Tempest… oh, no. This is terrible.” Shivering, she pressed her hooves to her heart. “The poor colt doesn’t have a father, and knowing Typhoon, she was never going to bring a stallion into her house to fill the void. If Typhoon doesn’t come back…” her voice trailed off, the obvious end to her train of thought hanging heavily in the air.

Finder stared at his hooves. He had visited Twister’s office before when the little scamp was playing soldier or otherwise causing a ruckus. The foal was so happy and his childhood was so perfect, even if he questioned the absence of his father from time to time. For a moment, his mind flashed back to the Red Cloud War and how it had torn his childhood to shreds for reasons he had purposefully forced into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind. Those memories haunted him late at night and were the reason he found more solace in the bottom of a tankard than in the company of other ponies.

He saw the happy foal again in his mind. He didn’t want that to be Tempest’s life. He knew better than most that it was not a happy one.

Stepping forward, he straightened his back. “Legatus, if I may.”

Twister didn’t look up from the table. “What?”

Pathfinder cleared his throat. “I will go and find Commander Typhoon. Whatever the cost, however long it takes, I’ll make sure to bring her home to her family… one way or another.”

Twister tapped her hooves together and sniffled. “I… thank you, centurion.”

Pathfinder waved a hoof. “Just Finder’s fine, ma’am.”

A touch of a faint smile pulled at Twister’s lips, and she mirrored Pathfinder. “Just Twister’s fine, sir.”

The stallion chuckled. “So it comes around.” He became serious again. “I’ll gather my things and be on my way as soon as I can. The faster we act, the easier the trail will be to follow. Whoever did this, they’ve already got a day’s start on us. If I leave tonight, I should hopefully be able to pick it up with a little sniffing around.”

The legatus nodded. “Please be careful. I don’t need these bastards claiming any more good legionaries than they already have.”

Pathfinder smiled. “Twister, I’ve been dodging death my entire life. I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t on my tail all the time.” Then, shaking his head, he added, “I’ll try to find her fast so maybe—just maybe—little Tempest doesn’t have to worry about his mommy being gone. If I can get her back in a week…”

“I’ll tell him that she’s on an important mission to keep the bad guys away,” Twister said. “But sooner or later he’ll have to know the truth. Just please, please don’t make me have to tell him that his mommy’s gone and she won’t be coming back.”

Finder looked into Twister’s pleading eyes and bit his lip. “I know. I’ll do everything I can. Just… be strong for him.” Taking a step back, he gathered up his things. “I’ll bring my wife with me. She can take care of anything that these damn rebels pit against us. I don’t intend on leaving any bodies not wearing that brooch behind.”

Twister leaned back in her chair. “Thank you again, Finder. I know that you’ll find her for us. I wouldn’t trust anypony else with this.”

The stallion’s expression became glum. “I’ve buried a daughter of my own. I don’t want your brother to have to do the same. If she’s still alive… I’ll bring her back. Little Tempest isn’t going to grow up an orphan.”

Saluting one last time, Pathfinder turned around and walked through the door, gently closing it behind him. As the sound of his hoofsteps faded down the stone corridor, Twister sat at her desk silently. It took her several seconds before she moved or made a noise.

Turning around in her chair, she pulled it up to the window and rested her hooves against it. Dark clouds were drawing over Everfree, and within minutes, thick, heavy raindrops pattered against the glass. A distant rumble of thunder accompanied a flash of light, and the summer rains fell heavily over the city, flowing in waves as the wind ran down the streets.

While cool and refreshing rain landed outside of the castle, warm and pained rain gently dropped against the windowsill inside.

Typhoon wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted simply to breathe. But she couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried, she felt nothing. The longer she went without breathing, the more frightened she became, especially once she realized that she somehow didn’t need to.

She had nearly died in the hospital following her duel with Cyclone. She knew what the kiss of death felt like. But this wasn’t that. Everything was dark and hollow and cold. If she could shiver, she would have, but she couldn’t feel her body. It was like she was frozen. Her soul felt frozen.

“It’s much, much easier to get what you want from a corpse. They don’t fight back.”

Part of Typhoon worried that the unicorn’s words were more than just a threat.

She’d been stuck, suspended in the empty void for… well, she wasn’t sure how long now. There was no sense of time in this place. What could be days or weeks could easily have passed as minutes or hours, and vice-versa. Sleeping felt no different than being awake, and at the moment, Typhoon couldn’t tell which she was doing. She had nothing but her own thoughts with her in this void.

“Tempest is going to grow into a spiteful stallion with both his parents gone.”

Oh, the voices, too. They had started a few days ago. Or maybe it was just a few minutes ago. Either way, Typhoon was seriously hoping they’d be quiet and leave her alone.

She imagined herself growling at the voice. It had to pass, since she couldn’t feel her throat or draw a breath to make a sound.

“Hello?” she thought as loudly as she could. It was a strange concept—thinking loudly—but it was the only thing she really could do. “Is anypony out there? Please, I—where am I? What is this place? Hello?”

Her thoughts sounded pitifully weak and scared. Typhoon tried to take a breath and regroup her wits about her, but whatever empty realm she was trapped in kept her unnerved and succeeded in dashing back to the far corners of infinity. Somewhere, she was sure that she was shivering, if she even had her body left. She tried to look around the void again, but without a head, neck, or eyes to move, such was impossible.

Garbled ramblings and traces of ideas came to her. It was strange, being stripped of everything physical. The only thing left of herself (if there was anything left) was simply her consciousness, suspended in only Garuda knows what realm. She formed a quick prayer to Garuda, asking him to guide her soul to the Great Skies if she was truly dead. Doubt plucked at the back of her mind, given form by one of those annoying voices that kept talking to her.

“What if this is the Great Skies, Typhoon? What if there’s just nothing but Us for the rest of eternity? Heehee! Think about that! You and me and you, forever and ever and ever until after is before again! Wouldn’t that be so much fun!”

Typhoon imagined herself clenching her teeth together. “No!” her thoughts screamed. “Go away! Go away go away go away! I don’t want to be with you! Get out of my head!”

She thought she could almost hear a gleeful chuckle from another voice. “Your head, Typhoon? Don’t you know? We don’t have a head left!”

Typhoon could feel panic welling where her chest would be, should be. “W-what? What do you mean?!”

“We’re dead! We’re gone! We’re having a deep sleep! It’s game over. Can’t you tell? We’ve passed into the void!”

The panic Typhoon was feeling seemed like it was actually going to scatter her very being into oblivion. “No! This isn’t it! This isn’t the Great Skies! This is… this is nothing!”

“Everything is nothing!” a particularly vile voice hissed from somewhere in the void. “And this nothing is our everything! It is our home! It is our family! It is OUR GRAVE!!”

Typhoon’s thoughts became a whimper. “No! No, no, no! It’s not! It’s not!”

A deep voice from somewhere else took the vile one’s place. “Oh, you scared her! Scared us!” Its words dripped sarcasm and a poisonous lilt that made it seem to be mocking Typhoon. If she knew where it was, she would have shied away from it. But just like everything else, it was everywhere and nowhere.

As if reading her thoughts, the vile voice returned. “This nothing is our everything, Typhoon! Now and forever…”

Typhoon screamed and screamed and screamed. The voices only cackled cruelly, madly, from within every shred of her being.

Light suddenly piercing the world caused Typhoon to stop screaming. Panting, she immediately tried to move, to know that she was real again. Something stopped her. Already short on breath, the panicked mare gasped and struggled. The slightest feeling of resistance told her that she had a body. Her struggles immediately gave way, and all she could do was lie there, weeping, thanking every god she could think of that the voices had stopped.

When the tears finally stopped flowing from her eyes and wetting her cheeks, Typhoon looked around her. The walls of the building were solid stone, set not all that long ago. The room was open and airy, and a number of windows lined the walls. Each one was open, letting in the wonderful summer breeze. It toyed with the drapes and carelessly flipped a few papers lying on a nearby desk. The olive drab stallion sitting at that desk cursed, and his horn lit up in a golden glow, pulling his notes back to him. The bells on the edge of his starry blue hat and robes tinkled gently at the movement.

“Star… Swirl?” Typhoon croaked. Her throat was terribly parched, like she hadn’t drank in days. Although, considering the experience she had just come from, she might very well have been out for days.

The archmage’s ears perked at his name. “Oh, Typhoon!” he said, turning around in his seat. “You’re awake! Sun and Stars, child, I didn’t think you’d ever wake up!” Stretching his arthritic limbs, he stood up and moved towards the Praetorian, hobbling slightly with each step.

“Wh...what happened?” Typhoon whispered. Looking over her body, she felt a huge wash of relief to know that it actually existed and was still part of her. Still, she took note of the straps holding her down to the bed. “Am why… am I tied down?”

Star Swirl chuckled, the sound gentle and grandfatherly. “When I found you, you were thrashing about with a black dagger between your ribs. I had to knock you comatose with a spell and bring you back here before you bled out or did any more harm to yourself. I’m sorry if the side effects of that were… less than pleasant.”

His horn lit up again, and he levitated over a canteen of water, placing it against Typhoon’s lips. “Drink,” he commanded, tipping it back. The mare’s body relaxed, and the corners of her lips pulled into a smile as she finally quenched her thirst. After a few seconds, Star Swirl levitated the canteen away and set it on the table next to Typhoon.

Licking her lips, the Cirran nodded. “Thanks, Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl waved a hoof. “Don’t mention it. I should have taken care of this earlier.” Then, pulling over a stool with his magic, he sat down by Typhoon’s side and held one of her restrained forelegs.

“How long have I been out?” Typhoon asked weakly. She was feeling a little dizzy from her harrowing experience earlier, and she still thought she could feel the whispers plucking at the back of her mind. She shook her head, and thankfully that seemed to scatter them away.

“Two days,” Star Swirl intoned, letting go of Typhoon’s hoof. The mare frowned, already missing the comfort of another pony. “I’ve kept you locked up in the higher chambers of the castle this entire time. For your own safety, of course.”

Typhoon nodded. “Of course.” Furrowing her brow, she looked around the room, noting the absence of any other signs that other ponies had been here. “Did my dad return yet? Does Twister know I’m okay? Does…” she gulped on the name. “Does Tempest know anything?”

“Little Tempest did not know that you were in peril,” Star Swirl said, stroking Typhoon’s cheek. “Your father is… yes, Hurricane did return from… wherever it was he was off to.” He shook his head. “As for Twister, she made a fuss and sent some soldiers to try and find you, when you were in this building the whole time. I did not expect that news of your disappearance would be able to get to her ears faster than I would be able to tell her of your recovery.”

The mare smiled. “Don’t doubt Twister; she has eyes and ears in all the right places.”

“So I’ve learned,” the archmage chuckled, “so I’ve learned.” Something clicked at his desk, and Typhoon looked over to see a little gemstone rhythmically pulsate a few times before dying down again. Standing up, the archmage walked to the desk and checked it. He sighed, shaking his head and tutting.

“What is it?” Typhoon asked, trying to turn and see, but being held down by the straps on her bed. She glowered at them before adding, “and can you unstrap me from this thing?”

“Duty calls,” Star Swirl said, gathering his things and tucking them back into his robes. “Seems that Diadem and Clover are making another breakthrough on void crystal research. I’m needed to verify the results.” Then, turning back to Typhoon, his horn flared to life. “Here, let me help you.”

Typhoon relaxed, waiting for the straps to be released. She was surprised and nearly choked when instead of releasing, they tightened, so much so that she could hardly move, hardly breathe. “Ack! Wh-what? Star…Swirl…!”

Star Swirl looked down on her, smiling cruelly. “I did not know that Hurricane was gone. This is… interesting indeed.”

Typhoon gasped.

The voice that had come out of Star Swirl’s mouth was definitely not the kindly unicorn’s.

“You… what?!” Typhoon exclaimed with what breath she had. “Who are you! What have you done to Star Swirl?!”

The pony wearing Star Swirl’s face sneered at her. “That’s none of your concern, Praetorian.” Then, looking at the canteen on the desk, he picked it up in his magic and pressed it to Typhoon’s lips. “Please, you still look thirsty. Do be a dear and drink up.”

Typhoon gagged as the water came pouring down her throat. She moved her tongue up to the spout, to try and stop the flow, to try and push the canteen out, but she couldn’t reach it, couldn’t get it to move. Her lips were suddenly frozen around the canteen. She squealed and thrashed her head back and forth, but bizarrely it stayed in place.

Water continued to pour down her throat, faster than Typhoon could swallow it.

The pony that wasn’t Star Swirl gave one last evil smile at her and turned away. He began whistling to himself as he walked across the room and out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Typhoon could hear the clicking of tumblers falling into place through her own panicked and desperate attempts to remove the bottle.

Her stomach hurt. Her lungs burned. She couldn’t swallow all this water so quickly. And it wasn’t stopping, despite it being a small canteen.

Typhoon tried to lunge up, but the strap across her chest pushed her down that much harder, forcing her to cough. The coughing forced her to trade precious air for cold water, filling her lungs. It only made her cough and retch harder, and that only made more water fill her lungs.

Searing pain blistered across the back of her eyes as her body involuntarily thrashed and flailed. A white-hot darkness swept across her vision, and soon her writhing and dying body disappeared from her once more.

“Things are falling apart. That’s what I’m seeing. I don’t know about you, your highness, but I know that something needs to be done if we’re going to keep Equestria whole.”

“And what do you think I have been trying to do, Mayor Greenleaf? I’ve been putting all manner of reforms to Parliament. I’ve been spending day and night with Star Swirl writing and drafting decrees. Chancellor Puddinghead and I meet daily to try and talk about what needs to be done. Perhaps the only good thing lately is that Commander Hurricane up and left on some fancy of his, so now we might be able to push through some military reforms to try and give the protesters what they want.”

“Like you’d get much done with the Legatus in your way. Whatever Hurricane wants, Twister pushes, no matter what it might be. She isn’t going to be a pushover and let you do what you want, Platinum.”

“I’m sure there’s something we can do.”

“She may be a smaller mare, but you know how she is. She’s dangerous even on her own. She might not kill you with a sword, but she’ll crucify your political career if you cross her. Besides, making an enemy of her makes you an enemy of Hurricane and the entire Legion. Don’t try it.”

Pan Sea cocked his head. He was seated on one of the rafters in the roof of Mayor Greenleaf’s office. Forty feet below, Queen Platinum and Mayor Greenleaf were discussing politics while having a spot of tea. The shadows in the ceiling were perfect for letting the demure stallion eavesdrop on their conversation while remaining entirely unnoticed.

Platinum was free of her robes for once, the luxurious garments and silver crown hung in the corner of the room next to Mayor Greenleaf’s official robes. The white mare levitated her teacup to her lips for a very ladylike sip before setting it back down on the floating plate. “Humph. Cirrans and their Legion. It’s been twenty-five years since they came to us, haggard, dying, and desperate, and nothing has changed. All they’ve done is rebuild their nation in the image of its past. The coup by Cyclone five years ago is likely the first of many attempts to reconstruct their empire. When Hurricane’s gone, Celestis only knows who will fill the power vacuum that follows.”

Greenleaf settled deeper into his seat. He was an older unicorn stallion with an evergreen coat and a solidly gray mane and tail. His eyes were a deep, iridescent shade of purple, and anypony who looked into them could tell that he was incredibly intelligent. Still, as a unicorn, he was severely lacking in arcane talent, despite being the son of Star Swirl the Bearded, and Clover the Clever’s father. It was through no natural lack of talent; his horn was withered and black, or a very dark, sickly green at its best. He had once been a prisoner at Onyx Ridge, the fortress Warlord Halite and the other barbarians had controlled in the western Compact Lands, and the void rings they used to suffocate his Arcana had given him irreversible void poisoning.

When Queen Jade and the Crystal Union sieged Onyx Ridge, he had escaped along with Clover, Platinum, and Diadem. When the two unicorns from River Rock had continued on with their search for new lands, Greenleaf had led an expedition of his own, taking with him the survivors from Onyx Ridge and planting the roots of Everfree City. Being the founder of Equestria’s capital city, he had run for mayor unopposed during both of the position’s elections. The ponies of Everfree looked up to him and respected him as much as, if not more than, the three ponies who ran the nation.

No wonder Twister had her suspicions about the stallion, even though Pan Sea couldn’t understand them.

“I would imagine it would go to his daughter, Typhoon,” Greenleaf said, seemingly confused by the question. “Unless something’s changed.”

“Typhoon is dead,” Platinum said, flatly.

Greenleaf’s eyes snapped back to Platinum. “…What? When?”

Platinum shifted positions, setting her tea down on the table at her side. “She disappeared yesterday. Apparently she was investigating leads in the slums, and her group of soldiers was ambushed. The ponies who went in later found bits and pieces of them, but nothing more. As far as we know, the mare’s dead.”

Greenleaf scratched his head. “Did they recover her body?”

“No, but if whoever attacked her was able to take out a Cirran praetorian and her companions, she’s good as gone. We might find the body again—nailed to a cross, perhaps.” The mare shuddered. “Typhoon was a good mare. I’m sad to see her gone, and I feel terrible for her little foal. Celestis, I can’t imagine how Hurricane will feel…”

The mayor’s hooves tapped back and forth. “Succession of the Legion would go to Tempest then, after Hurricane finally retires.”

Platinum leaned forward. “But what happens if Hurricane doesn’t return? Or if he dies in the next few years? Sun and Stars know he isn’t going to retire if Typhoon’s dead until his grandson is old enough to take his place. But if Tempest is too young when Hurricane’s no longer there, who takes the mantle?”

“I would imagine somepony in Hurricane’s family.”

“That’s just it though. Legatus Twister doesn’t know how to run an army. She’s a much better politician, and she knows it. Her husband’s a master blacksmith for the Legion, but a blacksmith nonetheless. And her two daughters are anything but military types. There’s no clear line of succession from Hurricane’s blood to fill the gap.”

Pan Sea frowned from where he sat. The more the two unicorns talked, the more he wasn’t liking what he heard. They were talking about the line of succession as if Typhoon was already dead and Hurricane would be shortly after. It didn’t make any sense, unless…

He needed to talk to Twister.

“…chain of command. It is the Legion, after all. They know who holds what power and what happens to that power if something were to happen to the pony holding it,” Greenleaf was saying. He turned in his chair, looking at a framed portrait on his desk, but of what, Pan Sea couldn’t tell. “The pony best qualified would step up.”

“And who would those be?” Platinum asked, the tension in her voice rising. “Somepony in his Praetorian Guard? We’re good as dead if that happens, then. You may not remember what happened five years ago when Hurricane’s son led that little ‘visit’ of his to River Rock. He single-hoofedly swept the Praetorian Guard away from his father and sicced them on my city, and when Hurricane arrived, they went back to him, no questions asked. Do you know what would happen if one of those ponies were to take over?”

The green unicorn scratched a hoof through his mane. “They should still feel some obligation to their nation…”

“They follow who they think is in charge, without question. And we don’t know what the personal views of any of them are; apart from Typhoon and a few other notable commanders, they’re all faceless, all the same. The only differences are age and color and sex. Nopony knows what the pony inside their heads is like.”

Greenleaf was looking very uncomfortable. “Alright, I see what you’re hinting at. But what do you plan to do about it?”

Platinum’s magic reclaimed her tea again, and she held it out in front of her as she spoke. “What I’m saying is put somepony loyal in charge. Somepony who we know how he thinks.”

Greenleaf thought for a minute. “I think I’ve got an idea on somepony you might like.”

The Queen took a sip of her tea. “Please, do tell.”

“Well, I’ve had time to talk to a lot of the old Diamond Guard about what happened in River Rock. I found one unicorn general who was a captain when Cyclone’s legion entered the city.” Leaning to the side, he opened a drawer in his desk and hoofed a scroll towards Platinum. The mare held it in her Arcana and looked it over. “A stallion by the name of Chiseled Gem. From what I’ve gathered, he was fairly buddy-buddy with Hurricane at the time—or, that’s what he claims at least. Still, if he’s right, he’s a friendly enough face that putting him in charge in the absence of any sort of ‘heir’ to Hurricane would seem only natural.”

Pan Sea watched as Platinum furrowed her brow. He couldn’t read anything on the scroll at this distance, and he didn’t risk moving to try and get a better look. The room was so quiet at the moment that even the slightest move would easily be heard. All he could do was wait.

“How did you get this?” Platinum asked as she finally passed the document back to Greenleaf. “There are things on here that are… well, I wouldn’t call them classified, per se, but certainly very hush-hush.”

Greenleaf smiled and put the scroll back into the drawer in the desk and shut it. “Don’t ask me how. Let me just say that a mayor has access to a surprising number of documents that pass within his capitol.”

Platinum nodded and finished the last of her tea. “Hmm. Very well. I won’t pressure. After all, I trust you to do the right thing, Greenleaf. After everything you did for us at Onyx Ridge…” she paused, and her eyes focused on some faraway place.

Then she shook, and she was back in the present. “Regardless, this has been very informative, even if most of it was mere speculation and gossip. But now I have to get on with the other meeting I have to attend.” She shuddered and stuck out her tongue in disgust. “If that stallion hugs me again I might make him a mare. Painfully.”

The mayor chuckled and stood up, walking with Platinum towards the door. “Remember, patience is a virtue, your highness. The Chancellor can be painful to deal with, but he’s useful enough.”

“Right. I suppose I shall try to remember that, but it’s oh so easy to forget.” Stopping by the door, she gave Greenleaf a quick hug before opening it with her magic. “You should see Clover sometime, dear. I can’t remember the last time you were both in one place.”

Greenleaf abashedly scratched his neck. “Well, you know. I’ve been awfully busy lately, so it’s hard to get any free time to make plans.”

Platinum rolled her eyes. “You and her both. I see that working to the point of exhaustion runs in the family. I think the only reason Star Swirl isn’t the same way is because he’s growing senile.”

“Senile, or just not caring,” Greenleaf offered. “His former apprentice is an archmage like him, and she can handle herself on her own. He probably realizes he’s not needed as much as he used to be.”

“Well I’ll make sure that he knows just how much he’s appreciated next time I see him,” Platinum said. “And I’ll make sure you and your daughter get to spend some time together this weekend. If the weather keeps up, it’ll be a beautiful day for a picnic.”

Greenleaf smiled. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll try to clear up some time for Saturday. Tell my daughter I said ‘hi’.”

Platinum shook her head, smiling. “Using the nation’s queen as your own messenger. The things I do for you ponies…” She stepped out the door, and turned to wave one last time at Greenleaf. “Goodbye, Mayor. Until next time.”

Greenleaf bowed. “Of course, your highness.” Then, shuffling forward, he gently shut the door.

Pan Sea fidgeted where he sat. He wanted to get a look at that scroll, but Greenleaf was still in the room. Something told him the stallion wouldn’t take kindly to knowing that one of Hurricane’s closest friends was privy to his conversation with Platinum.

Muttering a few words under his breath, Greenleaf returned to his desk and sat down. He pulled out a few papers on his desk, becoming absorbed in his work. Up above, Pan Sea quietly stood up and began to move down the rafter beam. The pegasus knew he wasn’t going to get a chance to look at the scroll now. He’d have to come back later, when the mayor was gone.

Besides, he had to tell Twister what he had just heard. If her worst fears were confirmed… well, Pan Sea didn’t know what she would do next, but it sounded an awful lot like the protestors outside had infiltrated the government higher than she thought.

With hardly a sound, the small stallion slinked down the rafter beam, towards an open portcullis in the roof, and fluttered out into the open. Soon enough he was gone, leaving Greenleaf to his work, unaware that the fly on the wall was gone.

Hurricane groaned, rolling over on the stone floor. The cold and dampness trickled through his coat and caused him to shiver. That he could even feel it caused him to tense. He shouldn’t have been able to feel anything outside of his armor.

Sitting upright, Hurricane opened his eyes and gasped. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a dark cave. The second thing was that he was completely stripped of his weapons and armor. Third, when he moved his leg, he heard the distinct rattling of chains. Scowling, the aging pegasus scrambled to his hooves and looked out at the set of iron bars stretching from floor to ceiling, separating the small alcove he was trapped in from the rest of the cavern.

His head reeled as his memories came back to him. He had fought a… thestral? That was what the big mare had called them before he passed out. And the mare… he shook his head. She had looked like every depiction of the goddess Lūn, the Goddess of Secrets and Lady of the Night. Her tall figure, midnight blue coat and starry mane and tail were proof enough, and she had the body of a goddess—an alicorn. But… she couldn’t be out here. She was one of the gods. Why would she manifest herself on this world only to stay so far away from the pegasi? From the other ponies?

And why would she chain him up like some damn dog?

Hurricane shook his head and looked at the cuff around his leg. It was nimbus skysteel, the strongest kind there was, but he figured he could break it. Every metal, no matter how strong, warped and cracked with extreme temperature changes. The only question was could he break it and the cell bars and get out before Lūn or one of her thestrals came back?

Was it even a good idea to escape from Lūn? Maybe he should wait for her to come see him again. Or, with any luck, she was here with her sister, Celeste. The temples had always paired the two together, side by side. Hurricane could only hope they were right.

But still, some uncomfortable feeling itched at the back of his mind. Walking up to the bars, he carefully stuck out a hoof, careful of any traps of concealed spells. When his hoof passed right between the bars, he let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.

Moving back into the recesses of the alcove, Hurricane held his bound leg out to the side and closed his eyes, focusing. He first started with feelings of anger and resentment. His past dealings with Platinum and Puddinghead back in the Compact Lands immediately came to mind. So too did his fury when he was first attacked by Streak Wing outside of Onyx Ridge. He could feel the shackle against his leg heating up, glowing brighter as his Empatha bathed it in fire. If it wasn’t for the fact that his magic was supplying the energy, the metal would have badly scorched him by now.

Gritting his teeth, Hurricane sought for the last push to get the metal as hot as he needed. He found it in a memory he had long ago repressed, and began to tap into its energy, its rage, to fuel his own fires. He knew this memory well, oh too well.

It was the first time he had killed somepony.

Before him were five figures who all jolted their heads upwards at his sudden entrance. The one Hurricane immediately recognized was the mare lying on the ground, manila coat bruised and spattered with blood stains. There was no way for Hurricane to tell at this distance whether or not they were from Swift, but the mare’s labored breathing and huddled figure told him she was hurt.

If Swift’s condition froze Hurricane’s heart in worry, the next thing he saw ignited it in a blaze of anger. Crouched directly above the mare stood a familiar red pegasus, armor stripped away and cast on the ground. A fiery hoof was resting on Swift’s flank. Around him, Fire Star’s companions bore the signs of a scuffle that had taken place not too long ago.

It didn’t take long for Hurricane to put two and two together. Nostrils flaring, the black pegasus slammed his hooves onto the ground and advanced menacingly towards Fire Star. “You…” hissed Hurricane, his feathers flared angrily out on either side of him as he advanced.

The tongues of fire grew taller, brighter. Hurricane’s breathing became ragged, and his teeth clenched in rage

Fire Star took his hoof off of Swift’s flank and stepped back. “Well, if it isn’t Swift’s little pet. You have a habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times, don’t you? I would much rather if you leave me to my own pursuits from now on. We wouldn’t want anypony to get hurt, now would we?”

Hurricane’s piercing glare unnerved the red pegasus across from him. The magenta eyes bore the fury of somepony deeply wronged and incredibly angered. Fire Star’s friends scampered away fearfully as he approached. “Leave. Her. Alone.” Hurricane spat the words out, where they fell to the ground with a roar of thunderous malevolence. Fire Star took several more steps back, trying to take control of the situation.

“Or what? You’ll kill me? You wouldn’t want to do that, friend.” His eyes glanced nervously around the clearing, trying to look for anything to rally his support around. His friends retreated back even farther from the black stallion.

The metal cuff was white hot now. The very air shook and fled from the heat, and the smell of ozone took its place. It was a putrid stink, but Hurricane couldn’t smell it. His mind was absorbed in the past.

With the screech of metal being ripped asunder, the sword connected with Fire Star’s neck. The red pegasus flipped twice in the air, spiraling backwards to where he collapsed on the ground in a messy heap. The immediate area was deathly silent as Fire Star’s wings twitched several times on the ground.

Hurricane let the sword drop out of his mouth, where it clattered on the ground, painting the grass red. Fire Star’s friends gathered around the motionless pony, breathlessly muttering to each other and eyeing Hurricane warily.

Letting loose a final gasp, Hurricane forced his eyes open, breaking free of the memory. He panted, and sweat ran down his neck and beaded on his forehead. Holding out his leg, Hurricane could see the shackle, glowing as bright as the sun and illuminating the cave outside his cell. He couldn’t see any movement, but that didn’t mean somepony wasn’t nearby. He had to move fast.

Closing his eyes again, this time Hurricane focused on his sad memories. Leaving Cyclone behind. Losing his parents in Zephyrus. Holding Swift Spear’s hoof as she lay on the ground in Cloudsdale, her blood pouring from her chest, soaking her coat with crimson and sticking against Hurricane’s armor.

Hurricane shuddered and pressed closer against Swift Spear’s side. “Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me all alone. You’re my wife, the love of my life, the one mare who’s been through everything I have… the one pony to whom I can actually talk about what I saw… what we saw… to remember Silver Sword, to remember Streak Wing, to remember our parents, and our friends, and the way things used to be…”

He choked on tears and shook again. “Our children, our history…. Don’t leave that all to me, Swift… I don’t want to be alone…”

When Hurricane clenched his teeth again, it was to hold back the sob threatening to choke him.

Swift smiled and kissed Hurricane’s cheek. “Hurricane… you won’t be alone… you’ve got Twister… her family, your nieces… our children are both still alive…” She shook her head, an action that took about three seconds but only covered a few inches of weak movement. “You know… you’ll never be alone…. Even when I’m gone… I’ll be there. Just look to the skies… look to your side… feel my presence next to you late at night… you’ll know I’m still there… you’ll know I still love you.”

“Cyclone… I’ll make him pay for this…” Hurricane panted. With every word, his voice grew more rapid and forceful, until he was shouting more with rage than actual thought. “For killing his mother, for tearing Cirra apart, for betraying his sister, for everything! I’ll—!”

“Hurricane!” Swift cut in with surprising forcefulness. “Hurricane, please… Cyclone’s our only son… he’s my baby boy… I still love him… I’ll love him when I draw my last breath, I’ll love him even as I watch you from above. Don’t kill him… spare him his life… our family loses one life today… don’t let it lose another, please... spare our baby boy…” Coughing lightly, she looked into his eyes. “Promise me this… please…”

Spare our baby boy. Spare our baby boy. The words echoed in Hurricane’s head, and he began to shudder. He had spared Cyclone, but for what? To abandon him in a land that hated him? Is that what Swift would have wanted?

Hurricane felt a tear drop from his cheek and patter against the stone floor.

The black pegasus, looking shockingly old and tired, nodded and pressed his forehead against Swift’s. “I promise you, Swift. I’ll spare him. I can never forget this—never—but I’ll try… I’ll try my hardest to forgive him… because like you said…”

Hurricane stopped and bit his lip, trying to force back the tears and sobs that threatened to steal his speech any moment. “Because like you said, he’s my only son. And he’ll be my only son, I can promise you that. I love you, and I’ll always love you. Forever and ever, until the stars shine no more, until the sun shrivels and dies, never to rise again, I’ll remember you, and I’ll love you. Every day, every minute will be a horrible reminder that you’re not there. But I’ll carry on for you. Because I love you. I won’t give up because of you, Swift. I won’t give up, because I know you want me to go on.” Taking a deep breath, Hurricane kissed Swift’s forehead again. “And I won’t disappoint you. Even if I live for another forty years, I’ll make you proud. And then, one day, we’ll be together again. In the Great Skies, we’ll be whole. And I’ll never leave your side, ever again.”

Swift smiled and gently nuzzled Hurricane. “Mmm… I’d like that… very much.” With a sudden, soft gasp, Swift’s neck twitched and her head tilted back. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, and her sadness slowly began to leave her. “Hurricane, I… I see Silver…”

The steel shackle around Hurricane’s leg shattered into dozens of tiny pieces, each one tinkling not across the cavern floor, but across solid ice. The entire cell had been frozen over in a glossy curtain of ice, and the frost clung to the iron, chilling it. His sorrow had fueled his Empatha so much that it had spread wildly out of control, extending several feet into the chamber outside of the cell. Yet the commander didn’t move for the longest time. He was too distraught over what he had just remembered to even think about moving. The tears flowed freely through his fur, and his shoulders heaved, yet he hardly made a sound.

Swift Spear… you would have loved this land...

He shivered in broken, depressing silence for several minutes, five years of bottled emotion gushing over him.

When he finally looked up, he saw a pair of slitted yellow eyes staring at him from the other side of the frozen bars. It was the thestral mare from earlier, and she watched him with a cool neutrality a safe distance away from the cell.

Hurricane looked at her for a second before turning away. “You caught me. Go and tell your mistress. It’s not like trying to escape now will get me anywhere.”

The mare didn’t move. Her yellow eyes remained locked on Hurricane, showing neither anger nor alarm. “I’m sorry.”

Hurricane’s ears perked, and he shot her a sidelong glance. “Sorry? For what?”

She didn’t answer the question. Instead, she moved a step closer. “Was she beautiful?”

The black pegasus paused, weary that this might be some sort of trap. His shoulders sagged, however, and he again faced the frozen cell wall. “The most beautiful mare I’ve ever known. We’d been through so much together… twenty-one years seems like a long time when you’re young, but those were some of the shortest years of my life.” Sniffling away a last tear, Hurricane turned his back towards the thestral. “And now she’s gone.”

The mare said nothing. Hurricane closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting down another shudder, when he heard crackle of ice breaking and the squeal of metal against metal. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the unicorn thestral standing in the opened doorway of the cell. She took a few steps back, and pointed to her right with her horn. “The mistress will see you now.”

Hurricane blinked. Slowly, steadily, he rose to his hooves, struggling to shake the weariness off of them. He took a few steps towards the thestral. When she didn’t move, he took a few steps more. Then a few steps more. Soon enough, he had crossed the threshold to his prison. The mare was less than a foot away, but she simply stood still, watching him. Her expression was impossible to guess beneath her wide, yellow eyes and the fangs extending over her lower lips.

“I could kill you right now,” Hurricane said, more as an observation rather than a threat. He pointed with his wing to the cell. “You just saw what my Empatha could do. You saw what my lightning did to your brother.”

Third Sister didn’t even move. Her voice showed not the slightest sign of worry or concern. “Are you going to try to kill me?” she asked, as casually as if she was wondering whether it would rain today.

Hurricane looked away. It certainly wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “No,” he stated flatly. “You haven’t given me any reason to kill you. Not yet.” Looking at the mare, and seeing her unchanged expression, Hurricane shook his head and took a step forward. “I suppose I should talk to your mistress, then.”

The thestral nodded and walked alongside Hurricane. Nothing more was said between the two as they navigated the long, narrow caverns. Hurricane could tell by the changing pressure in his ears that they were rising, but to where, he couldn’t tell.

The narrow cave they were in suddenly opened up into a wide chasm. A twisted arch of natural stone spanned from one end of the chasm to the other. Beneath the arch were enormous projections of solid black stone, pulsating with a deep lavender light and whispering to one another as they fed off of the ambient mana in the air. Hurricane immediately opened his wings and took flight, putting a few extra feet of distance between him and the gems, yet remaining close by Third Sister’s side.

“Are those void crystals?” Hurricane asked.

Third Sister hardly slowed her pace as she crossed over the arch. “The darkest and blackest. The chasm goes down to the very pits of Tartarus itself. They devour the evil magic that would otherwise escape His realm and pervert the magic of this world.” At Hurricane’s look of incredulity, she continued. “Void crystals devour not only the good magics of the world, but the evil ones to.”

When they made it to the other side, Hurricane paused and looked back down the chasm. Everything was black for as far as the eye could see, but he could tell the chasm was incredibly deep. “His realm… you mean Razgriz?”

The thestral turned and cocked her head. “I do not know a ‘Razgriz’.”

“God of the underworld and Lord of Demons,” Hurricane spoke, his voice filled with nervous reverence. “We Cirrans call him the Demon King. He tried to enslave the world and steal the souls of the pegasi, turning them into horrible, twisted creatures of black magic.” He looked over his shoulder at Third Sister, genuine concern in his eyes. “The fact that an open pit to his realm even exists is a threat to the world.”

Third Sister seemed relatively calm despite the end of the world scenario Hurricane had just described. “Oh. Mistress calls that one ‘Tirek’.” She turned away, continuing further along the path.

Hurricane, however, was deeply troubled. His wings flared out in alarm, and he widened his stance. “Your ‘mistress’ knows of Razgriz? She deals with him?!”

The thestral rolled her eyes. “No. Mistress and her sister do the opposite. They stay here and make sure that nothing comes out of that pit.” She continued walking down the cavern. “And they would very much like to see you.”

Hurricane kept his wings open for a few moments longer, but he ultimately closed them and trotted after Third Sister. He cast a few looks back over his shoulder at the pit all the while, almost certain that something foul and twisted would slither out after him.

The two ponies walked on in silence again for the next few minutes. Soon enough, however, they came to a large chamber well lit by torches and the outside sky. Stepping off to the side, Third Sister pointed with her horn. “You are expected.”

Hurricane looked at her and nodded. “Thank you.”

The mare flashed her fangs at him, and the corners of her lips pulled into a wry smile. “Of course. I do hope we meet again. You’re more interesting to talk to than half of my siblings.”

Nodding one more time, Hurricane wordlessly entered the chamber. Up ahead, he could hear the voices of two mares arguing. Or rather, one of the voices was trying to argue with the other one, but the other remained calm and refused to let her voice escalate.

“…killed one of my thestrals, sister! We have been much too absent from the ponies for far too long. What if they all are like him? What if he is the first of many?!”

Hurricane recognized the voice from earlier as he approached. It was Lūn’s voice, or at least the alicorn who looked like Lūn. And what she was saying made no sense to the commander. Absent from the ponies for too long? What did that mean?

The other voice responded in her calm tranquility. “You know how the ponies look up to us, Luna. You see it in their dreams. They revere us. This pegasus, I’m sure he accidentally found this place and responded to an attack by one of your ‘Night Guards’. He would have no other reason to be this far north.”

The stallion paused in his tracks. Did the other pony call her sister Luna? It wasn’t quite Lūn, but then again, neither was the earth pony and unicorn pronunciation of her name, Lunis. Could he actually be dealing with Lūn and Celeste?

What Lūn—Luna—said next left him without a doubt. “He still should not have been able to kill one of them, Celestia. The thestrals are more than just regular ponies. They wield my magic. That one pegasus was able to best one of my own in a single fight is deeply troubling!”

Hurricane finally rounded the wall he had been following towards the source of the voices. He found himself in a large, well lit chamber, with two large beds placed on opposite sides of the stone room. A few niceties brightened the chamber up, but the only real furnishings of value were the table and the two large chairs—one of which was occupied by an impressively tall and regal white alicorn.

The commander stopped dead in his tracks, even as the white alicorn stayed her rebuttal against the darker, bluer alicorn pacing at the other end of the room. The white alicorn—Celeste, or Celestia, he inferred—was stunningly gorgeous, with a flowing pink mane and tail fringed with touches of orange and yellow like the dawn. Like her sister, the hair moved on its own accord, like it was caught in some continually flowing ethereal breeze. Her eyes were a light pink, a perfect complement to her cream coat. Adorning her flank was the image of a radiant sun.

“Celeste…” Hurricane breathed. “Lūn…”

Celeste, the Goddess of Love and Lady of the Sun, gave him a soft smile. “Welcome, stranger. We were wondering when you were going to show up.”