Author's Notes:

Sweet christ it's been months since I've updated this thing!

Boy I feel like an arse right now.

Never the less, I hope you enjoy the new chapter and what we have to show for our hard work...

Although to be clear there's going to be some music involved, including a bit from a Pokemon movie.

But enough of my ramblings! Go on and enjoy!

“BREAKING NEWS! Trouble Brewing In The Skies!?”

In case you thought things were settling down after the “Hand-In-Hoof Riots” from four days prior, where the unfortunate peaceful protesters supporting PER and Conversion Bureau personnel were beaten up in an unprovoked attack by those ape-loving agitators, then we here of the Canterlot Tribune have rather unfortunate news to share.

Just yesterday, in Cloudsdale, the pegasus shipyards were engulfed in violent riots and unruly, disorderly conduct. Almost as one, labor unions threw down and spat out their tools, refusing to build the skyliners that have been the backbone of our majestic state’s infrastructure in the wake of Crystal Empire forces having torn up railroads during the late Crystal War. They claimed to have no idea why they continued to build skyliners, they also claimed that they were tired of building ‘war machines’.

Sentiments like this cannot be had at times like this, especially in the wake of the brutal attacks made on the Conversion Bureaus on Earth.

On top of this, there was a group of Pegasi that tried to disrupt the peaceful environment of Cloudsdale by manner of spreading propaganda connected to the Ponies for Human Life, created by Celestia’s personally chosen ambassador to the United Kingdom, Lyra Heartstrings. Thankfully, the Royal Guards managed to resolve both instances with little issue present.

The suspected top organizer of the riot and suspected coordinator of the strike, a mare named Soundstorm, has been apprehended by the Element of Loyalty, Rainbow Dash, and her partner, the Wonderbolt recruit named Lumina “Lightning” Dust, after attempting to escape; both of them have assured us that the violent agitator will never do any harm to an innocent soul again.

This is a trying time constant readers.. and I am afraid. In the wake of the terrors of the Crystal War, it was wonderful to meet the humans, to meet another species… but it appears that we simply cannot work together. I am terrified that we may need these skyliners very soon.

So far there hasn’t been any comment over these events by Queen Celestia, please stay tuned for more updates as events progress.”

A news article written by Featherpen of The Canterlot Times, an early propaganda piece detailing two separate events that occurred shortly after the creation of the organization Ponies for Human Life. Soundstorm would never be heard from again after being violently apprehended by Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust.

“When Thorin struck [his harp,] the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that Bilbo forgot everything else, and was swept away into dark lands under strange moons, far over The Water and very far from his hobbit-hole under The Hill.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Hobbit”

Sound... it’s a rather peculiar thing - to the simple sort, it’s a simple occurrence and a simple thing… it only affects you if you really listen to it.

However, that isn’t true - there are different forms of sound and these different forms of sound can affect you regardless if you ‘hear’ it or not.

Everything has a sound, simply put; the beat your heart makes is a sound, the mere simplest acts are these things… although sometimes these sounds can tell how someone is.

In fact, for one such individual who is currently being focused to move… his name is Inkwell and if I could describe what sounds he would be made of, it would probably be sounds of fear, or anxiety - the reason why for this would have to be the fact that he was being forced to go to the worst pony-

The worst mare-

...

The worst staff member of this entire prison that isn’t an Element of Harmony. She is a horrible pony that practically embodies everything that Equestria has become ever since it has made contact with Earth. Inkwell will be lucky if what Rockwell practically forced him to drink earlier actually did protect him from the Head Warden that regularly beats the tar out of his cellmate.

His bloodshot eyes look to the mare trotting next to him, what was her name again? It sounded like Nightrise Shine… at least that’s what the guard said while he was forced away. She’s wearing the standard Royal Guard Uniform for a Unicorn, although her coat’s a faded orange and her mane a burgundy color… although she seems just as scared as he is of seeing Iustita.

What drew his interest is... well, it’s the fact that there was something familiar about her. Inkwell couldn’t put his hoof on it but there was something about her that reminded him of… something or somepony he read about in the newspaper once, but what was it?

‘Did she come from Fillydephia or something?’ Inkwell wonders, trotting in hoof with the others guards while slowly approaching Iustita’s office.

If one could guess, Iustita’s sounds would be… rather different than Inkwell’s; she would possess an orchestra that is best described as conflicted behind a thin veil of forced aggression.

She is like this for a reason, one that is very imperative mind you; she is crumbling, slowly but surely. Why is simple: she is suffering from a cutie mark fracture brought on by a very rare yet relatively unknown side-effect by the geis cast on all who took the oath.

It inverted her simply put. It did make her very fanatically devoted to Celestia although it has turned her into an opposite of what she usually is - the contrast is one that would surprise you if you knew.

But, right now she can’t wait to meet Inkwell - because she simply knows that he’s the reason why her… husband New Bloom acted so strange before he collapsed.

It’s not like he had nothing to do with this and it was all a coincidence, or Twilight Sparkle’s own experiments with him are responsible for this. And it's certainly not like New Bloom was cured by an old strain of potion and managed to avoid the various side effects common to recipients of that potion. After all, what she’s doing is right and Her Majesty is always right.

Always. Uncompromising. Even in the face of Armageddon.

The twin doors to the Warden’s office open slowly, Inkwell being escorted in by the familiar looking Royal Guardsmare and two others; Head Warden Iustita sits behind her desk and observes all four of them enter her office.

“Leave us be. I’ll handle the prisoner from here.”

The three guards all bow slightly before simply trotting off in sync, like cogs in a machine.

‘Oh Luna, what is she going to do first!?’ Inkwell mentally pales, his dread growing more by the second, waiting for the vicious mare to attack him and possibly mutilate him beyond recognition.

What insidious thing is she going to do first?!

“Inkwell, come sit; I have much to discuss with you.” Iustita says casually, inspecting her left forehoof in an absentminded manor. She looks to him, a clear patient expression present on her face.

“Come now, I won’t bite,” she beckons, her voice sweet sounding. Yet, much like Queen Celestia’s, it barely hides its sick intentions underneath. This mare was sick, sick in the mind. There was a rotting, cloying undertone to her voice. “This will be over quickly if all goes well.”

Without much to say in response, Inkwell slowly trots over to the chair across from her and took his seat; making sure that there wasn’t anything on the wooden chair that would actively harm him.

The Chronicler observes Iustita’s desk - there are the usual implements that one would expect on any official's desk really; a lamp, some pictures in frames, a name tab with her position and name on it, and a file with his name on it…

…

...Oh Luna she must be onto them!

The Head Warden’s horn glows as the folder levitates up and opens before her, showing Iustita its contents.

“Let’s see, Inkwell - born and raised in Fillydelphia; son of former reporter Purple Prose and Silk Canvas...” she reports, reading off the file, “joined the Ponies for the Ethical Treatment of Newfoals as a reporter.” Iustita stops, fixing Inkwell with a seemingly soft look, “And outed as a traitor five days ago, right before Fancy Pants was revealed to be Trade Secret.” She gave a soft sigh, shaking her head. “Oh, why is it that all of our Goddess’s ponies have gone so wrong? Humanity must have told such horrific lies about her to do this to you all.”

Inkwell clenches his jaw. Best to stay quiet and not arouse her temper.

“Come now, is there nothing you want to say? It’s just the two of us.” The Head Warden soothes him, “If you cooperate, then this will go on quickly without incident or… pain. If you don’t, then I’m afraid you’re going to have to make things difficult… and I’m sure you don’t want that.”

A metal baton slowly rises up from beside Iustita’s chair, its handle glowing in her magical telekinetic hold as she places it on her desk. The intent is clear: either Inkwell could cooperate, or she would beat his face in.

“I swear, whatever you think it is, I don’t have anything to do with it,” Inkwell says sincerely, trying to tread carefully and avoid setting Iustita off. “Everything about me is in the file you’ve got. I have nothing to hide,” he says, hoping he sounds self-confident and reassuring enough.

Iustita fixes an inquiring gaze to him in response, one eyebrow raised. Her look clearly said it all - she didn’t buy any of that. “Inkwell, why must you lie to me? Honesty is one of our Elements after all, a concept that humanity can’t seem to grasp and have apparently tried to have you forget.” The Head Warden chastised, reminding Inkwell of Celestia for a moment, “You know something, and you need to tell me… or else I’ll have to ask again, and you really don’t want that.”

The tone she had used basically told Inkwell that if he didn’t start talking, her club would be meeting his face and he’d be hurting… a lot.

He knows there’s no winning this; he can either lie and get his face beaten in, or he could tell the truth and still get his face beaten in. But dang it, he’s not going to bend so easily.

“I promise you I am telling you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Warden,” Inkwell says to her as firmly as possible. However, he still can’t hide his apprehension. That club looks pretty heavy and solid, a well placed hit could very well knock a few teeth out.

Iustita frowns, her gaze still focused on him. “If you are telling the truth, then why are you so scared? Only the guilty are afraid before somepony important, and that’s only because they know that they are both wrong and lying to that somepony important.” The Head Warden stated plainly, as if she was giving a simple fact. “You’re still lying to my face; now tell me what that mud loving cellmate of yours has shared with you and all that you know - my patience is wearing thin.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know anything,” Inkwell says carefully, taking that last part into deep consideration, “All Rockwell has done is be rude, obnoxious and disrespectful - if he’d tell me something it’d probably be calling me a Pinhead, or some remark about the Newfoals. Outside of either of those, it’d probably be something about the prison wine.”

He’s lying. It’s so clear. He even mentioned the Newfoals. He is responsible for what happened to New Bloom. The voice, the JUST voice, told Iustita as her frustration of this… foal’s denial over being wrong.

She is the Head Warden of this facility, she is a faithful servant to her majesty - that makes whatever she does right.

If he tries to resist. Force him to admit. He is wrong. You are always right. Queen Celestia is right. Always serve her. She is your goddess.

“Inkwell, confess to what you’ve done and tell me what you know. Now.” Iustita said ordered coldly, glaring at the male unicorn before her, “If you do not, I will be forced to use my might to get the truth out of you.”

He… is… i-innocent… h-he hasn’t… done anything wrong… The other voice, the WRONG voice, tried to say - tried to lead her astray… tried to have her defy their goddess’s will.

Just like Balanced Scale until she was helped…

S-she was helped… wasn’t sh-

She… was ruined… she is… innocent…

“I’ve told you everything I DO know and there isn’t anything else I can tell you!" Inkwell yelled.

He lies. Humanity’s tainted him with dishonesty. He is against our Goddess. He deserves your justice to cleanse him.

N-no… h-he is…

Strike him. Now without pause.

She is without error, and without compromise - she is justified.

"I don't know what you want!" Inkwell yelled. "Rockwell and I don't even talk! If I got trampled in a prison riot, he wouldn't shed a tear! I! Don't! Know! ANYTHING!"

Too late.

One sound crack came as her club knocked the side of his head, his glasses flew off as he hit the floor - that would be a taste.

“You do… you’ve just been deluded Inkwell, by both humanity and yourself. You are guilty, and all you need do is admit to your sins.” Iustita replied coming out her chair and going over to him - her instrument held by her horn and ready to help him towards salvation. “Now, tell me what you know - or I will hit harder next time.”

Her next strike would be his foreleg - his left one.

"We're all deluded, aren't we?" Inkwell asked, spitting out a tooth. "You, me, the newfoals ..."

He admitted it. He wouldn’t mention the saved ones if he was innocent. He is taunting you.

Another sound crack would come, his left foreleg would now be blessed with pain.

"I don't even know what you want me to say!" Inkwell screeched, right foreleg screaming out in pain.

He is so coy, impudent little colt - of course he knows. He is stalling.

“Stop taunting me with these lies, Inkwell… you’re upsetting me further,” Iustita sneered, “Tell the truth.”

"What do you WANT?!" Inkwell yelled. "PHL cells? Resistance members?! The elk porn stash under my bed?! I! Don't! Know! AAANYTHING! I was just a stupid colt that was in over his head and published an article without-"

One crack came from his hind-leg for his tone, another came from the back of his neck for wasting time, a third one came from his back for saying something so undignified, and the forth from his side for restating both lies and what was already known.

"Here's some truth! I'M NOPONY! I'm not a partisan! I'm NOPONY! I wrote an article, and I was stupid enough to think anypony would want to listen!"

He is finally starting to speak. The dishonesty must be fading.

"Why won't you believe it?" Inkwell asked, tears in his eyes. "Nopony. I'm a writer barely out of college. I've never been outside the country or to anywhere with any Resistance members! Ask the PETN members, ask my family, I didn't do anything until I went to Hoofington!

How dare he ask us.

“I can’t tolerate such lies, Inkwell,” Iustita soothed, nudging his chin up with her instrument and looking into his eyes. “After that slander you’ve given to the PETN, it just so happened that Fancy Pants is outed as Trade Secret, and Fleur disappears without a trace… and yet Miss Berry Punch has told us of how she once met that strange mare in Canterlot days ago. I have every reason to suspect that mare she met is the Blue Spy, I have a feeling that your little ‘report’ was to prompt Fancy Pants into action and send Fleur away… we cannot trust anypony these days - only if Queen Celestia says so and -”

"He financed the PETN! He administered it! He was the last pony I'd expect to be PHL!" Inkwell yelled. "Do you even want the truth, OR JUST WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?!"

Two sound cracks, one for interrupting and one for yelling at her.

“What I want to hear is for you to admit to what we both know, I’m running out of places to hit and am growing tired of your insolence,” Iustita snarled coldly, placing her instrument onto Inkwell’s horn.

"I don't know what you mean!" Inkwell howled. "I don't know what you want me to say! I don't know! I DON’T KNOW! I don't know! I DON'T KNOW!"

Iustita scowled, “Fine then, tell me what you did to New Bloom?” She asked, looking down on the prisoner. “If you tell me what you’ve done… this all stops.”

"Who?" Inkwell asked. "Who's New Bloom?! I don't know who that is!"

He’s playing coy. Fancy Pants must have trained him.

“He is my husband,” Iustita said harshly, glaring at Inkwell and pressing her instrument against his side - the colt’s face would be scrunched up in pain… she must have broken a rib. Horseapples. “He is the Vice Warden of my facility, and he is amongst the first saved souls from that dirtball called Earth.”

"New Bloom!" Inkwell gasped. "Friend of mine interviewed him... First converted, oh buck, it hurts, it hurts..."

“It will continue to hurt if you don’t confess what we both know and what you’re guilty of.” Iustita said, pressing harder. “Now, tell me what you did to New Bloom - if you don’t…” Another firm press would finish her statement for her.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Inkwell shrieked, and Iustita took a step back from the volume. "I don't know what's happened to New Bloom! I don't know what's happening to him now! I never paid for an apple! I farted on a foal in public! I slept with an underaged mare! I read human comics that were contraband! I didn't pay for train tickets! I jaywalked! I wore a polyester shirt and bell-bottoms once! I tried to bring back shoulder pads! I’VE HAD A MULLET! I've done horrible things! IS THAT ENOUGH CONFESSING FOR YOU?!"

“ENOUGH!” Iustita yelled, silencing him. “Enough! I care not for your babbling or trivial things. All you’ve done is shown how far humanity’s corruption has festered in you and at how well Fancy Pants has, apparently, trained you to resist cleansing you of these lies… it appears I have no choice but to… to… ”

Look at him! He is hurt! He has done no wrong! He needs medical attention! Not death! Spare him! If you keep going on like this, he’ll choke on his own blood!

He is resisting. Use a spell to blow away the cure his taint.

‘No… no he will get both,’ Iustita thought, glaring at the broken mess before her.

Awww buck his back, buck his side, buck his legs… buck his head… just…

Buck everything.

“I believe we are done here Inkwell,” Iustita said suddenly, moving her club away setting it back onto her desk. “You have chosen poorly and not to let me help rid you of your guilt… this is unfortunate.” She trotted over to take a seat behind her desk, “I’m afraid there is only one place to send you now.”

She looked to the door, “Guards!”

Almost immediately, the twin doors opened and the Royal Guardsmare and two guards from earlier entered. The Guardsmare bowed slightly, “You’ve called Head Warden?”

“Ah yes, Nightrise Shine is it?” Iustita asked, as to which the mare nodded. She barked, “Take Inkwell here down to Medical; I’m afraid he wasn’t willing to let me help him rid himself of humanity’s corruption… a shame, if he was willing, I could have spoken with Feather Pen to arrange a job for him after he was healed.”

What a load...

“Yes ma’am!” the mare, Nightrise, responded before turning to Inkwell and…

...Was that look in her eye... concern?

Why would she have concern?

While Inkwell pondered this, her horn glowed as Inkwell was enveloped by a light blue magic before being lifted off the ground.

“Oh and Inkwell… Twilight Sparkle will be coming soon.” Iustita gave a nasty sneer, “I’m sure she’ll want to see you again.”

If Inkwell had any energy left, he would have probably made some remark on it - but right now, he was so drained. Any energy, any spark of life had been beaten out of him.

Even keeping his eyes open was too much effort. He couldn’t even think, pain… pain… pain…

It was too much pain…

Voices screaming… voice crying out in the abyss… unable to feel… unable to live… trapped in horrific forms… newfoals… the Elements… the Royal Guard…

The Princesses…

It was too much…

“Are you alright?” a voice asked.

Who…?

Somepony was shaking him.

“Hey, wake up now! It’s time to get up.”

Inkwell opened his eyes… there was a clear sky, a clear day sky with little to no clouds present. The sky was a bright, beautiful blue and the sun was… warm.

It wasn’t cold like it’s been for the past few years, but actually warm. Rejuvenating even.

“Thank goodness you’re up,” the voice said, relieved. “I was afraid that you weren’t gonna get out of my daisies.”

Daises? What…

‘Oh...’ Inkwell thought, seeing that he was laying in a patch of daisies right now. Best get out of that.

Looking over, Inkwell soon caught sight of an oak brown coated, chocolate maned earth pony stallion with saddle bags on that had a number of tools in them and a hat of some kind atop his head. He looked… sick, though. There was an odd tremble in one leg, he was clearly tired, and his eyes were a little jaundiced.

Yet he seemed to carry it almost as a badge of honor. Whatever he’d done, he’d clearly worked on it for awhile.

“Howdy there,” he greeted with a smile. “How’re you doing Inkwell?”

“Who are you?” Inkwell asked.

“A gardener, but I could be your friend if you want,” the odd, sickly stallion replied. “Name’s Land Patch, and you look like you’ve been through a hard time,” he pointed out, trotting over to a rake and opening up an empty flower bed. “Any chance you want to talk about it?”

“Am… am I dead?” Inkwell asked. “Did I die from what she…”

“Beating the tar out of you? Heck no,” Land Patch said, moving to pull a weed out. “You’re as alive as an apple tree… well, a good apple tree that is,” he muttered slightly, tossing some weeds he’d pulled out into a pile of garbage consisting of other weeds, branches and dead leaves. “You passed out from pain and the fact that you were tasting your own blood - not a good way to spend a morning, but beggars can’t be choosers these days. Trust me, I’ve seen ponies that’ve had worse mornings. Like Gestalt.”

“What was that thing, anyway?” Inkwell wondered.

“It’s not important,” Land Patch said. “What is important is that you hang in there, these next few days are gonna be the most rough ones in your life… like what Rockwell said,” he added, moving to trim a hedge with a pair of shears. “A lot of stuff is going to happen soon, and you’re too involved now to not get caught in the middle of it all. I wish you could’ve stayed comfortable, much as anypony can, but…” he sighed. “That isn’t likely, not these days unfortunately - it’s just blood, pain and some secret of the past coming to light and messing up the present and the future. Why can’t it just be simpler?” the stallion asked wistfully, stopping in his hedge trimming. “Just… why?”

“I wish it could be simpler too,” Inkwell nodded. “I… I miss how things used to be. When I wouldn’t get incarcerated for disagreeing. When Parliament wasn’t Celestia’s menagerie of flank-kissers.”

“Careful,” Land Patch called out, having resumed his hedge trimming. “If you have those rose colored glasses on too long you’ll go blind and become oblivious - trust me, it’s not a good thing. You’ll just see what you want over what’s there.” He then moved to a shrub, inspecting it.

“Well… wouldn’t that be better?” Inkwell asked

“As one large and certain earth pony might say, eenope,” the Earth pony retorted. “As harsh as the real world is, it’s the real world. If you go off living in a dream land you’ll never be truly able to survive in the world or live. You’ll suffocate like a fish in the wrong water. Or a sheltered college student.”

He plucked a piece of the shrub out before looking back to Inkwell. “Take my word for it - it’s without lies.”

“I… alright,” Inkwell sighed, too tired to do anything but just accept this. “How’d I get here?

“You passed out, remember? This ain’t no regular garden you know,” Land Patch said, going to a rosebush and tending to a… a violet rose. “This is Princess Luna’s Garden of Shadows. This is where she’d normally view every pony’s dreams.”

“So something of her still lives on?” Inkwell asked, looking on with wonder. This was a beautiful sight, he couldn’t lie about that.

“Well, yes and no,” Land Patch replied. “This garden’s a part of her magic. With her petrified and her magic taken, scattered into places even I can’t go - though there’s a weird concentration of it somewhere - Celestia would have let it get overgrown, turn it into a jungle. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“For all that you say about living in a dream land,” Inkwell noted, “it looks like it has its advantages here.”

“Well… I’m just a gardener that has been keeping this place nice and well for her for years,” Land Patch said humbly, “And it’s my duty to her to make sure it’s all nice and ready for her when she gets back to us.”

“Wait, Luna’s coming back?” Inkwell asked.

“Hmmm, maybe… hopefully sooner than later,” the old stallion said, smiling a tad, “It’d make my job easier, it gets hard maintaining it alone every single day. Might not come back quite the same, but I think we can agree it’s better than the alternative, don’t ya think?”

However, Inkwell noticed his smile became pained as blood began to come from his snout.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Inkwell asked. “I don’t remember much, but injuries appearing in dreams don’t sound…”

“Heh, I’ll worry about it when I have time,” Land Patch said, waving his hoof. “I’ll be fine for now… just, not as good as I’m used to these days when it comes to multitasking.” He took a deep breath, muttering something, “I need to… tell you something. It’s about that mare who took you out of the Warden’s office. She’s no guard; she’s actually on our side and is a friend… but don’t be putting all your cards on the table for her. Don’t let her know that you know, either. Can’t risk blowing her cover and all… it’s why I laced her helmet with spells to temper some troubling thoughts… uhhh...”

He started to look woozy, stumbling back a bit on his legs before sitting on his hindquarters, the blood still coming out of his nose. Inkwell ran up to him.

“Is there something I can do to help?” Inkwell asked, frantically trying to help. “Please, tell me, what do I do?! What am I supposed to do?”

“Survive…” Land Patch said, panting. “Survive… and stay with Soundstorm… she… she’ll be able to help you.” As he said this, his whole body was disappearing right before Inkwell’s eyes.

“Land Patch! Don’t go! How am I supposed to do any of that?!”

“Don’t you ever consider giving up, even if Celestia herself is pulling you to bits… never falter,” Land Patch’s voice echoed through the garden as a light wind came and carried off some flower petals with it.

All around Inkwell, the garden seemed to be aging before his eyes. Plants burst into bloom, growing as if the garden had been left unattended for centuries. Flowers blossomed and died, leaves fell, and something howled in the distance.

And then, it simply began to deteriorate before his eyes - trees becoming bare and dead, the grass yellow and patchy, the ground itself become more suited for a buffalo to roam on than for anything to be planted; it would be a wonder as to how somepony like that could keep it the way Inkwell saw moments ago.

Suddenly, Inkwell could… hear something: it was faint but it was there and coming from behind him. Turning his head, Inkwell saw a stone path that lead towards a door of iron - there was nothing else outside of it.

Looking back, Inkwell saw that the garden that was along with the ground itself that he stood on… simply vanished: all that supported him was a stone step that he knew wasn’t there seconds ago.

“Well, nowhere else to go but backwards I guess,” Inkwell said to no one in particular, before he began his ascent towards the metal door. “Oh, I’m going to regret this later.”

After what felt like hours of steps, climbing and suffering from aching hooves… the former reporter eventually reached the door and with his magic, Inkwell opened it… only to hear something else.

“Out of the darkness… into the sunlight, a whole wide world is waiting,” a familiar voice sung, “First I was so scared, now it feels so right. The child I was once is gone, now that I’m feeling so strong. I want to thank you for opening my eyes, helping me realise just why we are here. To chase down new horizons, eyes or prizes, forgetting our fear.”

It sounded… peaceful, yet Inkwell looked and looked to find just a white void - there was nothing, nopony or anything there… except for one.

The pegasus mare that Rockwell spoke to yesterday, Soundstorm… she was singing that?

“Hello?” Inkwell called out, his own voice echoing outwards into the void.

Soundstorm turned to see him, she had a neutral expression present - she didn’t even react.

“Soundstorm?” Inkwell asked, as he got closer… but again there wasn’t a reaction.

It wasn’t until Inkwell got close to her that he was able to see at how different she looked, her mane and tail were a plain grey, her coat a shade of faded bronze… was this how she saw herself? She looked… old. Faded. There were old scars crisscrossing her fur, and while Inkwell couldn’t tell what they’d come from, the meaning was clear. This mare had been through too much.

“Hello Chronicler,” Soundstorm greeted simply, “I take it Iustita has dealt a great deal of pain to you?”

“Didn’t she,” Inkwell agreed. “I feel like I got hit by a train and dragged on the cowcatcher a couple miles…”

The mare gave a sad smile. “I’m afraid it’s not going to get much easier for you… though you do know what is unseen in the Elements and in Celestia now, yes?” she asked, moving a wing over slightly.

“At this rate, I almost envy the newfoals for being so blissfully ignorant,” Inkwell said. “...Minus the whole, you know, being smiling zombies.”

“Actually, they’re screaming very loudly, in pain and desperation. It’s very sad and truly awful,” Soundstorm said sadly. “It’s always the same thing, which is truly terrible, no difference in melody.”

“Great. As if they weren’t horrifying enough,” Inkwell said with a shudder.

“No, what’s horrifying is the unseen within… not how they look without,” Soundstorm said in a rather cryptic tone. “I could show you if you wish what is unseen within… to be fair, after all - you’re my chronicler as well.”

“I’m willing to see!” Inkwell exclaimed. “I… I have to know what’s unseen within. Whatever that is. I have feeling I’m not going to like what I’m about to see, but I’m a reporter. Ignorance isn’t the best choice.”

“But are you a musician?” Soundstorm asked, before a sound came... a symphony of some sort. It sounded… odd to Inkwell, it had a substance to it yet felt…

“Follow the music after you wake up,” Soundstorm whispered, somehow amidst the tune. “Use it to find me… and I will show you what is unseen.”

“Get up,” a voice cut through, hitting Inkwell in the side and forcing him to wake up. The former reporter opened his eyes slowly, revealing to him a white ceiling and… he couldn’t move.

Straining his eyes, Inkwell found he was forced down into his bed by a series of restraints that were rather tight - his own horn was covered in some kind of gel that already solidified.

“Are you comfortable, Prisoner?” the voice asked, its tone sickeningly sweet sounding. Inkwell’s eyes searched to find a pale grey coated, stone maned unicorn stallion… giving a rather uncomfortable grin at him.

Was he a newfoal?

“I asked if you’re comfortable, it’s rude to be quiet,” he chirped before putting pressure on Inkwell’s side with his left hoof, causing the former reporter to give out a pained howl. “There now, was that so hard to say?”

“W-Who… who are you?” Inkwell panted, glaring at the newfoal who just grinned back at him.

“I’m Doctor Steady Scalpel, and I’m going to make sure you get better quickly with some special medicine,” the newfoal said in an eerie way, “But if you want to die, that’ll be fine… I like it when they go to sleep and don’t wake up. It makes it really fun to play with.”

This… this wasn’t like the brothels, or the guards, or that cult, or the newscolt he’d seen…

“And don’t worry, we’ll have all sorts of fun together while you’re here in medical before you have to go outside!” Scalpel said, his horn glowing as an injector came to him. It held a clear liquid in it, and the doctor chirped, “Let’s start off nice and easy… some liquid crystal should do the trick for you!”

Inkwell tried desperately to move or use his magic, but it was a wasted effort. First was the fact that his body was still sore from the beating Iustita gave him, and second was that this gel holding him in place somehow negated his magic. Not even a spark.

“Oh no, no, no,” Scalpel childed, putting a hoof back onto Inkwell’s side and causing the former reporter to grunt out of pain. “You need to wait for the privilege of getting out of bed, we’ve barely begun. So just relax,” he whispered into Inkwell’s ear, injecting the substance into his neck.

Inkwell felt numb, his eyes forced wide open and his whole body couldn't’ move - his own mouth even refused to work with him.

“Now then, time for the fun!” Scalpel said, reaching for another tool while Inkwell helplessly watched.

As Soundstorm sat still within her confined cell, she could hear Inkwell’s cries from here.

“No! Get away!”

It was like the others sent here… especially the ones that were under his ‘care’.

For he was not alike everypony else, he wasn’t even akin to his newfoal brethren. His orchestra was always playing the same dull yet menacing tune no matter what.

“Let me go!”

There wasn’t any cry coming from him specifically.

There weren’t any screams that he would make…

“Please! Don’t kill me!”

If the Newfoals were given freedom, their souls no longer in chains… he would be the only one sad because he wasn’t like that anymore.

He’s actually happy that he’s like this, that he can feel something for once outside of what he does…

“Ahhhhhhh!”

And she knows this, because she’s his favorite.

“Oh we will have sooooo much fun one day Soundstorm, our play date will be wonderfully great… I’ll make sure that you’ll always be around for us to play together. Forever.”

And he would tell her that, constantly…

Like a… what would the humans call it? A broken record?

Regardless, she would need to recover him soon and make sure their chronicler stays alive…

Or there may be forever ruin for them all.