With a tired sigh, Amber plopped herself onto her haunches at the edge of the small campfire alongside her new companions. She watched the flames that danced across the crackling and popping surface of the wood while a stout metal pot simmered at the center of the conflagration. The dull hurt in the side of her face had finally reached the point of becoming a constant feeling of numbness. Larisa had assured her that swelling would go down, leaving little to no mark.

It was agreed that resting anywhere near the decimated bandit camp would be foolish, even suicidal, so the young adventurers chose to move on. They had traveled as far as they could in the growing night, mostly with the aid of the bat mare’s keen eyes. After some time, they had cleared the forest and returned to the open fields that covered the lands towards Le’Ratte. From here they could rest for the night with little chance of ambush and reprisal for their earlier actions. What Amber truly cared about though was the hungry groans coming from her stomach as she sniffed the slowly cooking stew.

Though the acrid smell of the burning bandit camp still clung tightly to her coat, the scent of Volf’s cooking managed to push past and into her nostrils. She let out a relaxed sigh at the aroma of root vegetables, strange new spices, a touch of sweet ale and something he’d called cured beef.

“Ooooooooh, goddesses that smells so goooooood,” Amber chimed happily as she licked her chops.

“I apologize for the addition of meat to this stew,” Volf told her as he added a few more potatoes to the mix.

“Don’t worry about it, been way too long since I got to eat some meat anyways,” Amber said with a wide grin that showed off her pointed fangs. All around her she saw the shocked and slightly disturbed looks on her friend’s faces. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just that we thought you were a herbivore,” Alistair pointed out.

“Nope, omnivore,” she said before flashing her fangs once again. “Fact is, most ponies are omnivores at their core, but when most creatures are capable of carrying on a conversation with you, it tends to push most towards being vegetarian. Bat ponies are probably the only tribe that still practices it. Just little things like birds, rabbits and whatever you might find scurrying around the forest floor - nothing significant.”

“Told you no trust horsey monsters,” Winky grumbled. “Bet she try eat us first chance.”

“Here’s hoping she eats you first then,” Elwick snorted as he looked over the handful of prizes they had found in their raid.

“Not a chance - have you smelled him?” Amber asked, wrinkling up her snout in disgust. Laughter erupted from the rest of her companions while Winky grumbled something in goblin under his breath. With a touch of apprehension, she eyed the now-lifeless pile of armor that they had brought with them. “You sure it’s safe to bring that thing with us?”

“Completely,” Elwick replied as he continued to examine the spoils of their adventure. “The spell that had been animating it is no longer present and I’ve even taken the time to dispel any remaining magic from the armor. Considering how much we could sell a full set of adamantine armor for, I’m more than willing to risk any hidden enchantments.”

“And after this trip, I’d say we earned every coin,” Larisa happily declared. With a smirk, she fished around inside her heavily laden bag and produced a tall green tinted bottle. “I think we earned a little celebration as well!”

A happy cheer went up from the group as the bottle of ale was uncorked and passed around the fire. Every spirit quickly lifted with the addition of the sweetened concoction distilled from fragrant summer fruits.

“Volf, will you do us an honor,” Alistair happily asked him. “Treat us to a song of the old times.”

With a smile beneath his mask, Volf began to sing:

Amber listened intently to the sad song of war and loss, an ache starting to grow in her barrel at the somber words. “That’s a pretty sad story.”

“They say it is the prehistory of Domhan,” Elwick told her as he continued to work. “Thousands of years ago the world was lorded over by dragons and giants. The dragons ruled all that was touched by the sky and those who dwelt beneath it, while the giants ruled the mountains and all that lived beneath them. One day, the dragons decided they wanted the giants’ gold and gems, and the giants wanted the dragons’ lands. And so, they went to war.”

“What happened?” she asked him.

“No one really knows for certain,” Alistair continued. “Most believe it was a weapon created by the dragons, others think it was the wrath of some god. Whatever it was, a once-breathtaking lay of land was turned into crater of glass that stretches for hundreds of miles. In a flash of arcane fire the war was ended and both sides lost. Soon after, the races they once ruled began to rebel. The dragons fled into hiding; and the giants tried to stand their ground to regain their empire, and were killed to the last.”

“All that remains now are old relics and ruins,” Larisa added. “The grand wall of Le’Ratte for example was built by the dragons to stop the advance of the giants. The blasted crater after all these centuries has since become Shimmer Bottom Lake. There’s also the grand mountain hall of Grom Khaz, they say it used to be the capital city of the giants’ empire.”

“And where they made their last stand,” Elwick casually pointed out. “Bloody nasty business what those dwarves did to them. They still sing about that slaughter as if it was a great victory.”

“That’s horrible,” Amber said.

“That’s war,” Elwick replied with a shrug. “Is your home so perfect that they’ve never raised a hand against another?”

“No,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance. “But to my knowledge we’ve never wiped out an entire people, tyrants or not.”

“To your knowledge,” Elwick was quick to point out with a knowing grin.

The mare and the gnome squared off from across the flames of the campfire. Amber glared daggers at the tiny spellcaster, his words cutting her deeper than she’d expected. Elwick, however, sat, smugly content with what he viewed as their higher standing in the argument.

“How about a happier subject,” Larisa pleaded with a hopeful smile.

“I agree,” chimed Alistair. “There is no reason to fight over the sins of long dead men.”

With some reluctance the mare relented and pulled her gaze away from the smug gnome across from her. “Fine,” she huffed. “So Alistair, what was with you and that sword guy?”

His demeanor seemed to change quickly at the mention of this. “And here I thought we were going to talk about happier things,” he said sullenly.

“You can’t blame her for prying,” Elwick pointed out. “You were ready to rush off and face him alone the moment you laid eyes on that tattered standard of his.”

“Because it’s not his standard,” Alistair snapped at the gnome. “I am...sorry...for my outburst,” he quickly apologized. “That standard he was wearing belongs to the Crowns of the western lands, my uncle’s house.”

“You were close with him?” Amber carefully asked, fearing reprisal.

“Aye,” Alistair said, his eyes transfixed upon the flames. “When my parents died, he took me in and made me his apprentice. The Crown family line has always carried a latent talent for magic, and Uncle Roland taught me to harness it as well as how to swing a sword. When I came of age I was inducted into the order and made a Mage Knight. Shortly after, he sailed off to help an old friend that had been having problems with pirates. The wreckage of his ship was found off the coast; it had been flying that standard when it left port.”

Amber’s ears drooped lowly as she found eye contact with him much more difficult. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

“Considering he nearly left us to fend that living armor off on our own, I see very little to apologize for,” Elwick was quick to point out.

The bat mare’s fangs came to bear as her glare narrowed in on the gnome once again. Her wings unfurled and she gave a low, challenging snarl at the tiny spellcaster.

“He’s right,” Alistair’s words caused her to pause and look at him in shock. “I nearly let my thirst for revenge drive me and put my friends at risk,” he admitted. “For that, I am sorry. Today I failed to bring justice to my uncle’s killer, but I succeeded in keeping my companions safe.” His hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword as he added, “Besides, now that I know his face, I will not rest until he is made to pay for his crimes.”

For a time there was silence until finally Larisa spoke, “Well, I guess since we’re sharing things I can go next,” she said with a warm smile. “Obviously it wasn’t easy growing up as the offspring of a demoness and a human, especially after my deadbeat mother left me with my father. It didn’t help me all that much that my father was a well known scientist and alchemist.”

With a sigh, she took a long draw off the bottle before she continued the story. “I was always expected to become some great thinker just like Daddy. But when I started my schooling, I found I had a knack for potions and concoctions. On top of that, I genuinely love that my medicines heal the sick and injured. I wanted to help people, not spend my time in a lab mixing chemicals! Obviously, Daddy wasn’t very keen on me becoming just a doctor, so he cut me off from the family fortune.”

“That was rather cold of him,” Volf commented.

“Not as bad as you’d think,” she said happily. “I still love my dad and I know he still cares about me. For one thing, I know it was just part of some lesson in responsibility. On top of that, if I hadn’t been looking for a job that day, I wouldn’t have met any of you or joined the Dependable Blades!”

“Before I came to Le’Ratte, I lived in a small village far to the north,” Volf said as he took his turn on the spot. “Life was simple, but it was good. I was a hunter of a different sort in those days: deer, birds, rabbits, simple prey compared to the monsters and cut throats I stalk and kill now. Not long after my run-in with the bear, our village was attacked by a group of bandits. We fought them off, but they still killed many and destroyed much. My friends and family placed me in a cart and we rode south, eventually coming to the city. The moment I was well enough to move on my own again, I joined our guild. I kill monsters so they do not kill others.”

“Lots’a bright times ago, Winky lived with Master,” the goblin chimed while collecting a pot of trail stew. “Master was nice old man, him really smart too. Always give Winky things needs doing. Master tell Winky open special boxes and when Winky do, he get cookies! Master nice old man. Always give Winky jobs and then be giving him cookies for doing good. Sneaking into rooms, get cookie. Open locked doors, get cookie. Open locked box and find lots of shinies for Master, gets lots of cookies. Life good for Winky. Then one day, not nice people came to Master’s tall house, say all kinds of mean stuffs about what Master do there. They fights him but master have sparklies so he hurts them lots. But they still kills him. Other goblins try and fight them, they get dead too. Winky smart goblin though, he hides and not get finded!”

The goblin pauses in his story only long enough to quickly slurp down his bowl of food and lap his chops clean. “With Master dead, Winky need new home and find more cookies, so him come to city. Lots of hiding places, lots of shinies, also Winky learn new tricks. Winky learn stabbies. Winky also learn that some people in city are mean. They say Winky steal their money, but Winky only steal little bag, not know it have monies in it! Then they beat Winky and leave for dead in alleyway. But then horn girl find him and make all healeded! And so, Winky not havings home, he stay and work for guild and get cookies again!”

“Well, you guys already know my story as far as how I got here,” Amber said. “But, before I got switched with a piece of cauliflower and before I joined the Night Guard, I was just any other mare. See, all my life I’ve always wanted to live out this life of adventure, just like in my stories. Thing is, when you grow up near Canterlot, the biggest heroes for you to look up to are royal guards. The second I was old enough, I enlisted with the Night Guard, my folks were so proud of me. Let me tell ya though, it is nothing compared to what we just did. Back home, all I did was patrols and the occasional guard duty - soooooooooo boring. As far as I can see, there are only really two reasons I’d like to go home, I mean, besides the heartfelt ones like family and all that mushy junk. One, I am going to be getting so much freaking back pay for this, not to mention probably some kind of hazard pay to boot. And I guess number two would be to ask out that stallion at that doughnut shop I always thought was cute.”

“Fine, I suppose since we absolutely must pour out our souls,” Elwick huffed as he turned his attention back to his companions. “Believe it not, gnomes do not have it easy when it comes to being taken seriously in the magical community. We are labeled fools, mischief makers and devious, as well as any and all other misconceptions and assumptions one might have for a fey. My family has worked hard to break away from these stereotypes and I have chosen to rise higher than any. After years of hard work and intense study, I am now the apprentice of the Arch Mage of Le’Ratte, a position that can only be held by one out of hundreds. As for the reason why I adventure, well, the guild was an investment of mine: When the original Guild Master squandered his funding and never gave me a return on my investments, I fired him and took over.”

With a childish grin, Larisa leaned over and nudged Amber in the side. “So, tell us about this boy you’ve got back home.”

A touch of red forced its way through her fur at the question and she quickly shied away from the tiefling. Much to her dismay, many of her companions joined in as they happily chided her and egged the mare on to spill the information. All save for one.

Removed from the laughter and happy chatter of the team, Elwick had something else to occupy his attention. Pouring the contents of the sack rescued by Volf’s arrow, the vertically-challenged spellcaster was staring in slight awe at what laid before him: a large jewel about the size of his head and deep red in color. It shined and pulsed with a dim red glow that grew stronger the closer he drew to it. He soon found himself unable to tear his eyes from the gem as he stared entranced by it. The closer his hand drew to the surface of the gem he could feel the tingle of the arcane energies it gave off shooting up his arm and standing his hairs on end. No longer could he hear the happy conversations of his friends but instead there was a low whisper that clawed its way into the back of his head begging him to touch it. Closer and closer his hand inched towards the blood red surface of the glowing bobble.

A surge of force shot through his entire body the moment his bare hand touched it. Pain beyond anything he had ever felt shot through his entire body tearing him apart from the core. It burned and ripped its way through his arm and into his chest. Elwick could feel the arcane energies tearing him apart from the inside. Everything began to spin around him, the world turned into a blur of agony and chaos before finally the world became black.

From the blackness, his world began to shift and stir until he found himself standing before a massive ancient city that sat within the darkness. Its high strong walls had been blasted and eroded by the endless desert that surrounded it. The sands began to shift and stir until a ragged withered hand reached its way through the sand until it reached high enough to grasp the moon within its massive hand. The world around him began to tremble as the sky and land began decaying all around him still there was nothing left but the endless black again.

Elwick quickly sat himself up with a gasp, looking around he realized he was no longer in the forest but his room back at the tower. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he tried to make sense of everything in his head. A warm summer breeze drew his attention to the open window where his comrade Alistair sat quietly reading a book.

“How many times have I told you not to touch my things,” the gnome groaned.

“I’ll put it back when I’m done,” Alistair assured him as he continued to read.

Elwick rubbed his sore temples in an attempt to force the world back into proper focus. “Try to put it in its right place this time. What happened to me?”

“Not really sure, there was a bright flash then you were laying on the ground out cold.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Alistair told him. “Whatever that gemstone is, it really did a number on you. We brought you back to the tower the moment we entered the city.”

“Did anyone else touch it?”

“Not after what happened to you,” Alistair told him. “You were lit up like a winter’s hearth. Larisa was surprised you were still breathing after that kind of arcane backlash.”

Through the open window, a sudden gust of wind brought with it a leather winged equine carrying a simple brown paper bag in her mouth. With a wide smile, Amber set the parcel aside. “Glad to see you’re awake; you had everypony worried.”

“Everypony,” Elwick asked with a raised brow. “Everypony, everypony, everypony...no, no matter how many times I say it, it still sounds odd.”

“You use your colloquialisms and I’ll use mine,” Amber deadpanned as she took a seat near the window. “Sorry I didn’t grab you any lunch, Elwick, didn’t know you’d be awake yet.”

“He won’t have time to eat,” Alistair said, finally closing the book. “The Arch Mage said to send you to him the moment you’re awake.”

The small feet of the gnome echoed surprisingly loud through the halls of the tower as he made his accent. His simplistic robes were replaced with far more ornate garb to reflect his place in the school’s ranks: primarily a robe of dark grey, with a stole of red and gold trim hanging about his shoulders down his chest and a neatly tied sash around his waist that held his dagger. All around him, various humanoids cleared his path, some whispering under their breath to each other as he strode past them. Elwick paid them little attention beyond the occasional glare which sent them scurrying away from the gnome’s wrath.

Upon reaching the large pair of double doors at the furthest end of the hall, he began to lose the cool confidence and composure he had when scaring the initiates. Taking a deep breath he pushed open the doors and entered the massive room. It appeared ten times larger than the structure of the tower itself should allow. Polished marble floors and walls reached far and high till they came around into a sunlit dome overhead that filled the room with a dull golden light. Rows and rows of fully stocked bookshelves, bobbles and various artifacts lined the walls and seemed to go on for eternity. At the epicenter of it all, sat the lord of the mage tower himself.

He was human and despite the wrinkles of old age, still maintained rather gaunt features to his face. Sharp teal eyes regarded Elwick sternly accompanied by a frown, a look that always reminded Elwick of a disappointed father just before he gave some lecture. His hair had been neatly combed back revealing that as time marched on so had his receding hairline. He was dressed in white and gold robes that held an unearthly glow to them.

“Apprentice VonFrook,” he greeted him with zero emotion in his voice.

Elwick couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the use of his title and last night. “Master Mikhail,” he greeted him in turn while bowing his head.

“Tell me, apprentice, what was one of your first lessons when dealing with magical objects of an unknown origin?” Mikhail asked him.

“To devote a portion of time to ascertaining the make up their enchantments and thus unravel their purpose?”Elwick replied with a hopeful smile.

“What else?” There was a slight raise in his voice.

“Not to touch the object in question.”

“And what did you do?”

“I touched the object in question,” Elwick admitted lowering his head in shame. “But it wasn’t my fault, there were extenuating circumstances!”

“You are my apprentice,” Mikhail snapped back at him. “I expect mistakes like this from learners, not the man who is to one day take my place as master of the tower.” He then exhaled a long-withheld breath before relenting a bit. “However, you are correct,” the master spellcaster admitted. “There is powerful magic at work within this gemstone.”

Elwick followed his master’s motion and saw the blood red gem sitting upon a small pillow in a metallic box. His eyes went wide and heart raced upon seeing it once more. In the back of his mind he could feel that scratching. He could feel the pain it caused him running through his arm yet again, gnawing and cutting into him.

“Do we know what it is?” Elwick inquired.

“No,” Mikhail grumbled. “The magic at work here is from the prehistoric era. It is not draconic in nature and the giants lacked any major spell crafting abilities.”

“That we know of.”

“Indeed,” the aged human responded. With a wave of his hand the box shut itself with the loud click of a locking mechanism. “For the time being, it would be prudent to keep this dreadful thing locked away in the archives until I can decipher a way to fix what has been done to you.”

“Done to me?” Elwick asked. “Master, I feel fine. A bit groggy and sore from the ordeal as a whole, but all together fine.”

“Is that so?” Mikhail asked with a raised brow. Reaching into his robe, he produced a dull glowing crystal. “Tell me, apprentice, do you know what this is?”

Elwick snorted and chuckled at the question. “That would be what the juveniles call a Soul Stone, Master: A cute little enchantment that’s very easy to cast and almost always placed upon simple cheap pieces of crystal or glass. It reflects the inner nature of your soul in the form of a color where in the youths seek out a supposed suitable partner on the-”

“That is enough, Elwick,” Mikhail interrupted him. The arch mage tossed the glowing bobble to his apprentice, the blue shine fading after leaving his grasp. Upon catching the rock out of the air, Elwick’s look of boredom quickly melted away to confusion; looking upon the stone, he found that it bore no color at all in his hands. Believing this to be a flaw in the enchantment, he quickly began examining the lay of the magic at work. He found no flaws in the toy.

“I don’t understand,” he said despondently.

“When you were brought here from the fields, I immediately sent for the Voice of the Gods herself,” Mikhail told him. “No matter what healing spell the high cleric cast, she could not heal your wounds; your body rejected all forms of holy magic. Upon closer inspection, she and I came to a rather frightful conclusion: Elwick, this gem that you touched has ripped your soul from your body.”

Elwick stared for a moment at the bobble in his hand. The weight of his master’s words crushed down on him. His soul was gone; he was an empty shell, less than he was. “And yet, like I said, I feel just fine,” Elwick snorted before tossing it aside.

“Most would find this to be rather earth-shattering news to receive.”

“I am not most people,” Elwick pointed out. “I am the apprentice of one of the most respected arch mages in the world. I am trying to run my own guild and dealing with a mutant talking horse from an alternate reality. If that isn’t making me spew maggots and speaking in demonic chants, then this isn’t a major problem to me.”

“Well put, apprentice,” Mikhail said with a touch a pride in his voice. “One day you will make a truly dangerous wizard. In the meantime, however, I have a job for you and your comrades.”

“I do hope this mission turns out to be more profitable than stopping some brigands.” Elwick voiced.

“Oh, I think this particular job will be a bit more exciting for you all,” the aged human said with a wicked grin.